Rat Attack
I arrived at my campus classroom at exactly 8 a.m. this morning. As usual, my students were all seated quietly and the room was completely dark. They groaned as I turned on the lights, shielding their eyes like vampires, some complaining to their neighbor how this teacher never misses a class.
I am a creature of habit, so I walked to the computer desk and went to sit my bag down beside the desk where I always put it. And that's when I saw it.
A huge rat, teeth sharp and forboding, a matted furry body, and a grotesque tail to match. I jumped back in horror and screamed, "What the. . . " as my heart started to race and I leaped onto the nearest table.
Half of my students burst out laughing. The other half were innocently wondering what had just happened.
As my heart raced and my hands shook, I asked who had done it. I felt like I had just run a mile on the treadmill. No one volunteered, but there were two girls who were laughing a bit too much. Finally, one of them raised her hand.
Reason #1 of why you should never tell your students you are deathly afraid of rodents. There will be no additional reasons. This one should suffice.
Once I had calmed myself down, we started class. I made my culprit put the offending stuffed rodent back into her school bag because I was not about to touch that thing, real or not.
Later in the class, my students asked me when the final will be for the class. I told them that with the exception of the rat-bearing girl, we weren't having a final.
I have to hand it to her though. She got me. She got me good.
It’s All About the Money
I went to the gym today to meet with the trainer who seemed so willing to help me. I found him, and he told me to hop on a treadmill while he talked to me. He talked to me about the importance of stretching, strength training, flexibility, and exercises to work on balance. I was polite but I felt like telling him he was preaching to the choir. You don't remain oblivous to these things when you're an ACL statistic.
When he was finished telling me what I already know, he launched into his sales pitch. Been there, done that. He told me when I was ready to sign a contract, he'd be happy to help me. So much for that.
I spent an hour doing my arms work-out before heading out. If it wasn't for a ridiculous initiation fee to get into the program, I might actually consider it. Until they agree to waive it though, I'm not interested in giving them all my hard-earned money. I already paid to join the gym. A friend recommended another trainer who charges a lot less and I'm going to give her a call to see what she has to say.
I feel like writing to the owners of the gym to tell them their approach is shady and a big turn-off. I feel like not signing up for a contract just for spite. You shouldn't tell someone you want to show them an exercise that will help and then hang it over their heads until they sign a long contract. Plus, the sales pitch guys with all the so-called experience just turn you over to a less-experienced trainer for your actual work-outs.
Plus, I'm sure I can find some exercises on my own that will help my knee. That's what google is for people; and google is free.
A Review You Don’t Want to Miss
I think the house will be ready for the virtual open house by the weekend, maybe. We're having a major curtain push tonight, so things are getting done.
I'd like to direct your attention to The BBM Review today. I just read an absolutely haunting book and I wrote a review about it. If you have an interest in the war on terror, Gitmo, or if you just like books written by military (like I do), please check it out. There are also some other great reviews on the site. If you're starting to look for gifts for little ones in the family, there are plenty of toy and movie reviews. There are also some martial arts book reviews that have gone up. Check it out!
Also, thanks to Marguerite for the card!
Back Off
I was seriously trying to talk myself out of going to the gym today. I kept making excuses. Then I talked to Mr. BBM. He told me I should just go. It's going to be uncomfortable working out there until I get used to it and there's only one way to get used to it. Drag my butt there; just go.
Part of why I didn't want to go is because after two sessions with a personal trainer, I was getting the hard sell, and they were trying to convince me that I needed to pay a fortune to work out with a trainer on a regular basis. As much as I'd like to do that, we just bought a house. I don't have money growing on trees. In fact, I have no trees. Hell, I barely have grass as this point.
Today was the first day I had to see the trainer since I didn't call him back. Of course, he was right there as I walked in. I told him money is tight and I'm waiting to see how much of a credit I have at karate from my year on hiatus until I make any decisions. He shrugged it off and said he was there if I needed his help.
So, I got right to it. Today was legs and I spent time working on PT like things and also doing some weight lifting to build up the muscles in my legs. I had spent about 40 minutes working my legs and abs and then walked on an incline for 20 minutes on the treadmill.
When I was finished, I saw my trainer and thought I'd ask him if he could help me hook up some kind of weight lifting harness so that I could do some exercises that my physical therapist taught me. He and about three other trainers started scratching their heads. No one had a harness. They just had these stretchy bands. It wasn't working. At one point, there was one band wrapped around my waist, another wrapped around me being held tight by a trainer behind me and a whole mess of trainers watching.
The one trainer, who always seems a little sour asked me why I wanted to do that exercise. I told him it had really helped me get my leg stronger when I was going to PT. He asked me what I had done and when I told him I had surgery for my ACL in December, he started getting on my case. "You should be doing deep squats by now on that knee. You're babying that knee too much." He wouldn't shut up. He had some company.
Since I always take the high road, I fired back, "How many trainers does it take to hook up one harness?" I told him that my surgeon doesn't want me doing deep knee bends and that I had an overuse injury. I'm anything but a slacker when it comes to getting my leg back in shape. I resented his little comment that quickly began to feel like a public stoning. Here were a bunch of guys with leg muscles the size of my whole body, telling me and my stingbean leg that my PT doesn't know anything, and they want me to sign a long-term contract so I can take this kind of abuse weekly?
At one point, the out of line trainer asked me how I had hurt my knee. "At karate while sparring," I said. The trainer I had worked out with last week shot the guy a look that told him I'd probably be more than happy to snap kick his head off. He would have been right.
During the debate, one of the trainers disappeared and came back with his own personal weight lifting harness. He handed it to me. "Try this," he said. It worked perfectly. He began asking me about my injury and what types of exercises I was doing. He told me that he's a trainer who trains athletes, many who've had ACL reconstruction. He was rattling off statistics and talking about the differences between women and men and why this happens to women more often. He told me he could teach me some exercises that would really help strengthen my leg to prevent it from ever happening again.
Unfortunately, the KidZone was closing and I had to go grab Lil C. When I was putting her shoes on, I realized he had followed me. He told me he'd be happy to show me some exercises later this week, so I made an appointment with him. It's free. I'm just hoping I don't have to endure 30 minutes of post work-out pressure to sign a contract again.
Vanished
I hate moving. Inevitably, something goes missing. Inevitably, it's always something important. No, I couldn't be missing the box that contains old college textbooks. Those boxes are all accounted for. And it's not another miscellaneous box full of baby toys either.
I'm missing two boxes to be exact.
I'm missing my very small and carefully labeled box with St. Joseph in it. I'm also missing my box that contains all my curtain rod brackets and picture framing hardware. I'm starting to suspect that St. Joseph wasn't really happy about being packed up temporarily and that he decided to mess with me a bit. Taking my curtain hardware would do just that.
I'd like to let St. Joseph know that I have big plans for him, and that I have a place of honor picked out where everyone will see him so I'll be able to tell the story about how he helped us sell our house and thereby increase everyone's faith. But I can't do that unless I find him, and find him, I can't.
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