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Archive for November, 2011

Due to Huntsville’s perpetual fall rain cycle (AKA cold November rain, for you G&R buffs), boot camp was held inside of a karate studio this morning. The indoor lighting revealed what 5:30 a.m. lighting in the regular outdoor location did not: I was the only participant wearing weightlifting gloves.

I felt particularly tomboyish for a few minutes, which is not an unfamiliar feeling for me, until I at last spotted one more boot camper wearing similar gloves. It then occurred to me that the two of us were going to have the softest hands in the whole group at the end of boot camp because the main reason I wear weightlifting gloves is to protect my hands from dumbell-induced calluses.

And that’s how I went from tomboy to soft-handed lady, all in the span of three minutes before daylight on a Monday.

My brain is a wonderland.

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The secondary flowers from large bouquets usually last longer than the main flowers. When broken down into sub-bouquets, they stand on their own as quirky little arrangements.

Yang agrees.

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First of all, guess what? I’m totally going to boot camp. At 5:30 a.m. Three days a week. During the kickoff of the holiday eating season.

I’m not trying to lose massive amounts of weight, although a little trim-up here and there wouldn’t go unappreciated. I really just need to get out of my fitness rut — working out by yourself often means that you stop really challenging yourself. Three sets of three different lifts, 30 minutes of cardio … meh. It turns into an uninspired check mark on the daily to-do list.

I’ve been lucky enough to inherit my maternal grandfather’s height (not ALL of it, but I’m taller than most other female relatives) and his tendency toward the slender end of the spectrum. I’m not stick-figure thin, mind you: I have curves that will grow curvier if left to their own devices.

What I want is muscles. Not big muscles, but toned muscles. And not just for display purposes. I like it when my muscles can DO things, like effortlessly move piles of books or march up the stairs two at a time. I like it when I can SEE the muscles outlined on my back and stomach, not because they’re making me look skinnier, but because they’re making me stronger.

They’re also helping me have better bones. Having watched my grandmother suffer with advanced osteoporosis, I want to do everything I can to prevent my own diagnosis.

So back to my first day at Madison Adventure Boot Camp: It was fun and difficult, very reminiscent of the workouts I completed the year that I was on the basketball team in junior high (note: tall girls may not be aggressive enough to play basketball – they may just be tall).

A workout with variety will draw me in me every time. A little jogging here, a few side squats there, some shoulder work (wait, MORE shoulder work?) … boot camp is the workout for those of us with fitness ADD.

Tomorrow’s going to be an achy-muscle kind of day, but in that good way where you can picture little bits of muscle breaking down only to rebuilt with better, stronger muscle.

One advantage I’ve already noticed: a general aversion to the office bowl of leftover Halloween candy. After all, I’m not counteracting all that early-morning work with cheap milk chocolate. (Expensive dark chocolate … maybe we’ll talk.)

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I’m tired of being hustled at the cash register.

Cashiers at the two grocery stores where I shop at regularly have begun the holiday charity spiel early this year. The script literally says, “Would you like to give a dollar to help a family have a turkey for the holidays this year?”

Yes. Yes. A thousand times yes, if I thought that dollar actually went toward the purchase of a turkey. But I’m afraid that only 40 cents of that dollar goes toward a turkey. Possibly less.

And, you see, I know and trust several local organizations to take that dollar and do something awesome with it. Your unknown organization, not so much.

You might say that I won’t miss a dollar here and there. And you’re probably right. But at some point I WILL miss the sum of those dollars, and my own pet charities may get shortchanged.

So stop it. Stop delivering your spiel in a manner that makes me feel like a cheap jerk for saying no.

Stop hooking up with organizations that I’m not familiar with. Would it be so bad to sponsor a LOCAL organization? Ask me to donate a dollar to Manna House, or Friends of Huntsville Animal Services, and see how quickly I say yes.

Until then, the answer is still no.

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Oddly, education is hindering my ability to write a post about education for the Rocket City Bloggers November blog carnival.

In four weeks, I’ll wrap up my master’s degree in English. I never intended to pursue this degree, but it has been one of the more awesome things I’ve ever done.

I think everybody should go back to school for something in their mid-30s. It remaps your brain and reenergizes your thinking process. Or at least that’s what it’s done for me.

It apparently has not, however, transformed my ability to do three things at once into the ability to do five things at once, so I better get back to writing for work, writing for class and cogitating about this Friday’s master’s exam.

I promise to return to cooking and decorating and writing about the whole glorious mess sooner rather than later.

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