Internal Dramalogue
This morning I was talking on the phone with my Mom when my Dad had a little outburst. He went from perfectly quiet to "Damn woman, why do you have so many towels?"
He was folding laundry for my Mom.
He then went on this whole conservation lecture kick, telling her that she uses too many towels (dish rags, drying towels, cleaning rags) and socks (work socks, work-out socks, etc.). So much for saving the world by not using paper towels to clean.
"I don't know what his problem is," my Mom said laughing.
This type of outburst is not unusual for my Dad. He can spend 15 minutes not saying anything and then completely freak out. I've just learned to expect this type of behavior from him.
"You know what's wrong with him?" I said. "He has these internal conversations in his head like this: 'I'm a big bad man. Why am I folding laundry? Why am I folding all these towels? Why are there so many damn socks? What does this woman do, use 15 towels and four pairs of socks a day?'"
And then it's all too much and he says something like, "Damn woman, why do you have so many towels?" I told my Mom he's having an internal debate, a dramalogue if you will, with himself. She lost it, and we were completely cracking up because it is so obviously what he does.
"Your daughter has you all figured out," she told him laughing.
Earlier in the conversation we had been talking about my grandfather. He got a bill in the mail today and instead of calling because he had a question about it, he got in his car and drove there. It's New Years Eve. I'm betting no one is even there. We were talking about how stubborn he can be and my Mom went on to say that if anything ever happens to my grandmother, she'd probably have to take my Pop-Pop in and she thinks she would go nuts.
"Remember what you said about your dad?" I asked her. "Ditto that for me," I told her.
They both must have been put on this Earth to provide humor for the women in their lives. It's the only explanation.
Getting Nervous
Yesterday the surgery center called me to do my pre-op interview. She asked me all kinds of questions that were easy to answer until she asked, "What's your pain tolerance like?"
"I don't know how to answer that," I said. "I had natural child birth twice and that was fine. ACL reconstruction surgery, however, was a completely different story."
"I'll just put 'I don't know' down," she said.
She then went on to tell me that she doesn't want me to be in pain so I should let them know if I'm in any pain after the surgery next week. She doesn't need to worry about that.
She also said I should bring along my crutches. I do not want to be on crutches again and the whole thought of all of this stuff is bringing back bad memories from last year. I want it over with in the worst way, and logically, I know that I'll be better afterwards. But I am ACL traumatized and the dread that is beginning to envelope me is a feeling I wish wasn't so familiar.
Just Call Me the Abs Slayer
For Christmas, Mr. BBM got me some workout clothing, a bunch of CDs, and an IPOD touch. I was not at all expecting an IPOD. I was quite shocked, and was sort of baffled as to why he got it for me since my little green shuffle is pretty much my best friend.
I got him some travel coffee mugs and a thermos, a slant board and two medicine balls. I debated about the weight to get him. I didn't want to go too light, because he's a big bad man and all, so I decided on a 6.6 lb. ball and a lighter 4 lb. ball. The 4 lb. one hasn't yet arrived.
Mr. BBM's dad gave him a booklet on the "Abs diet." Mr. BBM started to feel like we were all trying to tell him something. Truly, I bought him the slant board because I know how helpful it has been to me and I got him one that can be used as a bench, etc. He doesn't have time to go to the gym so I figured I'd help him make one at home.
The day after Christmas, I told him to get on the board. I took him through the abs workout my trainer does with me and that I do pretty much every other day of the week. We didn't get through the whole workout when he decided he had done enough. I couldn't really blame him. I was doing it along with him and the 6 lb. ball was pretty intense.
The day after, Mr. BBM started complaining about his abs and how sore they were. Today, he says he can't stand up straight and is debating as to whether or not he has a terrible gut-wrenching stomach virus, a potential hernia, or just completely shredded abdominal muscles. I think it is safe to give me a new nickname. Just call me the Abs Slayer.
In other news, you can also call me the Fantasy Football Slayer! I won the championship last night in my one league, beating Ikigai by 13 points after a hard fought two week championship playoff. Thanks for all the good mojo!
Merry Christmas
I am taking exactly two minutes out of my crazy day of shopping, cooking and cleaning to wish all of you a very Merry Christmas. . .
From the BBM family to you and yours. I hope you get everything you hoped for and more.
Keep Your Mouth Shut
I worked out with my trainer last night. When I told him I wanted to do legs last night he smiled and laughed a bit as he said, "alright." I hate when he does that. I know he's going to kill me when he laughs like that.
He had me do toe touches on a step higher than I'm used to and with more weight. Instead of 10 or 15 reps, he made me do 20. Then it was on to squats with my back against one of those work-out balls, followed by wall sits. He did them with me and I'll tell you, he looked a whole lot more comfortable than I was while doing them.
When we hit the 45 seconds, my trainer just stood up. I had to crawl up the wall using the back of my head. Good stuff.
He put me on a prone leg curl then and despite the fact that I literally threw the weight up for the first rep, I refused to let him up the weight. Higher reps absolutely kill once you get to number 14 so I told him to forget it.
When he put me on calf raises though, I made the mistake of opening my mouth. He set the weight at 105 and I told him that I usually do 135. He smiled that smile and said "alright" and moved the weight up. He didn't tell me we were doing reps of 20 on that one too. My calves were absolutely wrecked when I was finished with three of those sets.
He usually has me do three ab exercises, but last night he had me do six. I've been working hard on my ab exercises all week long and it paid off. It's nice when you finish a set strong, not so nice when your trainer throws in an extra few since you're doing so well. I told him I only filled the tank up for 10. Those extra three were accomplished on fumes.
As I was leaving, he told me that he can definitely see that I'm getting stronger. I am just really hoping that the surgery I'm having in January doesn't set me back too far. I feel like I'm finally getting somewhere.
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