Cat in the Lap

I had a nice day, and it's not even over yet.

I took Riley on a good, hefty walk with Jody and her dogs this morning, then went to the Launder Mutt (finally) and washed my stinky puppy. She was not thrilled with the process, but I was. After she was blow dried and brushed, we went to the Rancho San Rafael dog park, which is huge and filled with happy dogs. Then I brought Riley home to nap and went to meet Jody at the dollar store for Easter goodies. I've decided that I'm making myself an Easter basket. How's that for practicing reorganized priorities? Over the years, I made many fun baskets for the boys- both of mine and many of the displaced Virginians as well. I can't wait to put that effort into one that's for me. Maybe that's ridiculous, but I don't care.

I just watched Contact and now I'm going to make spaghetti and reheat some of those frozen meatballs in my new teal fucking frying pan. Ah, bliss.

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No option, just the highway.

Today is SLOOOOOOOW, probably because I get to leave early today.  It’s also just busy enough that I can just start looking at something before the phone rings, but it’s not constant.

I totally didn’t go last night.  Instead I cleaned up and sang along to the Everly Brothers.  Poor Jenny! That’s a funny song.  I was singing along to Barenaked Ladies until my cd started skipping DURING MY FAVORITE SONG.  Fantastic.

I plan to go today.  Will I go?  You know, I did not call Tracy yesterday, so I did not get harassed to go, but I did run several errands that were piling up.  Whew.  That felt better.  And I did two loads of laundry, cleaned half the bathroom, cleaned the kitchen, policed the apartment, and watched Deep Impact.  You know I love my disaster movies.

Today I will escape early and I hope to take Riley to the Launder Mutt (I have been creating my own spelling, but this is what it’s actually called.  Their version is way better.). I would like to do that today, but they seem to have short hours, so I may have to do it on Saturday.  Riley is smelly and covered in some sort of black grime.  Ew.

Hey- I just thought about another thing that’s good about this relationship being over.  I no longer have to wait forever at Guitar Center, Starsound, the ballpark, Studio on 4^th, or people’s houses.  It is amazing how much yakking he would do everywhere we went and I tried to keep Sudoku puzzles or a book on hand at all times for situations like that.  Usually I would opt to wait in the car and he would take so long that I would become incensed.  When Ant was with us, he would warn Chris before he got out of the car that he was not allowed to stand around and talk to people all night, which is exactly what he would do.  Ahhhhhhhhhhh.

I was just thinking last night about whether or not things are better now.  I know that sounds crazy, because it seems pretty clear right now, but it’s not always that clear to me.  I think I am probably still thinking in terms of what’s better or not for him, or maybe for Ant.  It’s frustrating to budget the bejeezus out of every month and still not be able to get out from under his stupid bills.  But to be fair, I just got the raise and probably need a little time to let things settle out.  Plus, he should be back to work by now, so I can continue harassing him for money just like I’ve always had to do, only now we’re not together anymore!  Can you picture me shaking my head?  Maybe it’s a tradeoff to only have that hassle instead of all of the others.

But yes, it is better, not that that’s news to anybody but me.  It’s sad and lonely and it’s all up to me, but as a few of you have pointed out, I’m carrying a lot less of a burden now.  Why could I not get it through Chris’s head that contributions have to be more than just financial?  I wonder if I will ever be able to share a household again.  I think I have already gotten used to having things my way.

Personally training

I had no idea what to expect during my meeting with the personal trainer, so I dressed in yoga pants, but did not bring a lock or a towel.  I requested a female so that I could act as normal as possible.  I thought she was nice, knowledgeable, and she laughed at my jokes, so I was pleased overall.  She was a little unrealistic, though, as are all of these people who seem to live at the gym.  She laid out her plans for me which included doing cardio six times a week and weights three times a week.  Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.

I asked her if we could start with something more realistic, so she suggested that I start with cardio twice a week and work up to six times a week.  “You NEED a day off,” she told me seriously.

Ok, well I’ll try really hard to make sure I take a day off.  In fact, I feel motivated enough to start that right now.

She taught me how to use many, many machines and warned me not to watch the people around me as many of them will be doing it wrong.  There are some machines that I think I could actually go use by myself without making a few half-hearted gestures before looking around for help.  Some of them I will never touch again.  Right now I feel like it’s possible to go use them, but who knows if I ever will because the whole point to this was to join some classes that teach me as I go.  I could buy some more sessions with a personal trainer, but they are flippin expensive.  I tried to pay attention and remember as much as possible, but I honestly don’t know if I will go back and work on those machines by myself.  My trainer was funny, though, suggesting that we go lift some barbells, because that’s macho and it’s fun to go do macho things.  Then we’re on some machine and she changes out the weights.  When we’re done I try to help put the weight back on and she explains that you’re supposed to clear the weight when you’re done.  “This was probably used last by some man who thinks his mommy is going to come clean up after him.”  She says this while we are surrounded by men.  Hee hee hee.

She thinks I ought to go to a chiropractor for my continuing back problems.  She said that it’s probably still inflamed, and if it’s been this long, I probably need some help.  I told her that I am afraid of them, but she still thinks I should go.

So I just read this article Monday (?) in Better Homes & Gardens about making exercise a habit, and it says it takes on average 66 days of actively forcing yourself until it becomes kind of automatic.  That is a pretty long time, but at least I’m prepared.  I have a little calendar that I can move to the front of my fridge, which is becoming Workout Coordination Headquarters.  If I can see how long I’ve been going, maybe I won’t want to ruin my streak.  Of course, right now we have a grand total of one day.  WOOOOO!  I was just telling Tracy that I think I will go to Zumba tonight, if only to make some half-hearted gestures and look around for help.  I doubt I’ll expend much energy while I don’t know what’s going on, but at least I can kind of mark the steps and start figuring it out.  That counts.

Now that I have written that here, I think I’ll have to go.  I already laid out my workout clothes, as the BH&G article suggested.  Thankfully, I’m cheap and I already paid, and I want my money’s worth.  I want a DEAL.  If I go to enough classes, it will work out to be worthy of my Kohl’s deals.  Well, maybe not.  It would be pretty hard to beat them.

Alright, Tracy.  I just spent my measly lunch break writing this, and now I can’t go outside and get some fresh air.  It’s all your fault, and you’ll likely hear about it during our daily phone call.  When we talk, tell me to go work out my anger at the gym.

First day at the gym

My two favorite comments from my personal training session:

"That was good, 'cause those are hard."

And

"Well, you're not weak at all!"

I will live on that for at least a week.  I feel good- it feels good to be bodily tired instead of mentally. And my back feels better.

Now I'm off to do something really brave: go to the store in my yoga pants!

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I have a solution

I am just raging today, probably because I did not get enough sleep last night.  But as we have covered many times, my job is boring and makes my back hurt. I want to be a full-time student again.  I cannot help but be a whiny complainer, but I just cannot understand how people are expected to spend 8 hours a day like this for 30 frigging years.  I'm sorry, but no.  It's not even close to healthy.  I'm supposed to improve my eating habits, my exercise, my attitude- how can I do that under fluorescent lights, staring at a computer screen, and with a half hour to eat?  I'm supposed to spend 7 1/2 hours a day in a chair.  There are people who can do this, but I'm not one of them.  I need change, I need challenge, I need fresh air, I need to move.

Again, school.  At different times throughout the week, I would hike across campus with a pack on my back.  Here I can squeeze in a couple mini walks around maybe one building before I have to run back inside lest I be late getting back on the phone.  I'm supposed to be conveying a better image of the VA, but I hardly think they are the only employer guilty of this nonsense.  I'm reading these books for the apprentice class and realizing part of the HUGE problem here is a complete lack of morale.  It makes me miss the military because for all the bullshit, it was a family, and we always had fun- even when we had to do something pointless or dreary.  I was on a duty with G and several others once, clearing brush from the fenceline at Edwards all damn day.  But G, as our ranking airman, decided that we needed to cool off on the way back and we all ran into a shallow mud pond (remnants of El Nino) and slid across.  It was like a Slip 'n Slide covered in chocolate milk.  I don't remember how hot it was out there in the middle of the Mojave Desert in my BDUs, I don't remember much of the work, I just remember the cool, slick feeling of the mud.  We were COVERED in mud and it dried green.  G called someone on the radio to come out to pick up our truck since we were too muddy to drive it and we walked back up to the shop.  Most of our flight came out back to see just how muddy we were.  We walked up all abreast like in a movie, and completely light green.  G looked like the Hulk.  They turned the hose on us and we had fun chasing people around in our muddy uniforms.  Someone cut apart a trash bag for me to sit on and gave me a ride home.  I remember lots of sweaty, dirty, miserable jobs, but not so much the work as the fun we had.  People joked constantly and really supported each other, with the rare exception of someone who absolutely insisted on being a loner.  Even the assholes were welcome.

Somebody needs to bring a hose in here.

Writing is a lot like vomiting.

It's past my bedtime, but I'm all emotional thanks to The Glass Castle, this crazy memoir about this crazy family. Shannon recommended it and I do too, as it is the most readable book ever. Pure insanity that is also, oddly, full of heart. There is so much insanity that it's amazing there is room for anything else. And this book is the perfect example of how utterly useless covers- and especially the blurbs on the back of books- are in conveying what you will actually get out of them. Even the reviews are limp and sappy- nowhere close to the bite this book gives.

But this book and me on the verge of an exercise routine that right now has the potential of A Sunnier Outlook, Less Stress, and More Energy, according to Better Homes & Gardens (Why the hell do I keep getting this magazine?), or it could fall flat and I will have bought yoga pants for nothing. I had a Diet Coke too late and crap for dinner because dog class was over and I couldn't imagine cooking or eating another sandwich. I couldn't figure out what I wanted and ended up with something that felt bad even as I ate it. I am out of vegetables and will need to find some tomorrow. Lately I've been willing to recognize accomplishments, though, and see that I am now the kind of person who feels a lack of vegetables. That is progress! Also, even as I was not enjoying my dinner, I thought about Mondays and dog class and how hungry I was and that I could prepare for that. It was much more helpful than a Jenny bashing party.

I do feel like having a Chris bashing party. I am so mad about what he did. I am mad that he's keeping me tied with these fucking bills and that much of the behavior he enjoys from his dog and his son came from a lot of hard work that he did not do. I miss Jasmine: the cuddler. Most nights I curled up with that dog because my boyfriend was working or fucking some stupid bitch, or both. I'm mad about the two of those beautiful houses that were treated so carelessly. I'd be mad about Ant except I think he's smarter than his dad, and I know that he'll be fine as long as he can resist the overwhelming urge to look cool and just be his awesome, friendly, funny self. I'm mad that I am restrained by his stupid purchases- that he manages to keep a yoke on me even after his reign of absolute destruction, and I get to be just in touch enough to hear about the fallout from the idiot decisions that he can so freely make. I want to publish my blog and make enough money to pay off that debt myself and tell him to shove that board up his ass. Same with all of his disgusting whores. Shove them up your ass, too. You're all really horrible people.

I see now why people turn to Zen, because there just isn't anything else you can do but accept. I know that I will not be the one to deliver their karma, but I can't help but wish that I could assist, or at least witness. I know I can't heal my heart until I know every bit of its hurt. I have to get to know this pain until I can know and stand it all. It's coming along slowly, like how you stretch out that sharp pain in your chest with shallow, then deeper, then deeper breaths.

Fuck you, Chris, I'll get there anyway.

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