Sore is an Understatement

So...on Tuesday my dear friend Debra convinced me that we should break routine and give Crossfit a try. Only now am I ready to talk about it....

I begrudgingly agreed because I know myself pretty well...and I knew it wouldn't bring out the best in me. You see, I have a bad attitude. It's buried deep inside and I try to control it daily but it tends to creep (more like pour) out of me when I'm physically challenged in a way that I don't like. That basically means that during any activity/class that resembles boot camp (i.e., multiple reps, circuits, people cheering, hollering, coaching loudly, clapping near your head, discussing correct form, etc.) I become a monster. I roll my eyes, I glare, I sigh, I say things like 'yeah, I get it' and 'I already did that'. I really just become unreasonable and very immature.

So I predicted those behaviors and shared them with Debra and she assured me that we would be fine...and we were...sort of...until Wednesday morning. Don't get me wrong, I despised Crossfit and had a pretty bad reaction to it (ha! Like how I say reaction like I'm allergic and have no control?) and I won't be going back; however, I didn't know what 'bad reaction' was until I woke up on Wednesday morning. I have NEVER been more achy or sore in my entire 28 years on earth. Neither of us could sit, stand or walk for days. 

Here is a little snippet of the extent of soreness. I was literally so miserable that I felt sick. Think I'll just stick to running and a little pilates... 

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When the husband's away...

This wife will do absolutely nothing! Jay was in Ruidoso this weekend at the horse races and playing golf and my first thought was 'Good for him, he needs to get away!' My very next thought which I confess may have actually come first was...'Jay gone means I get to relish in my all time favorite and oh so treasured-- alone time'. It's true. I really love to hang out with...me. It's refreshing and fun and I'm never bored. Seriously. Never. 

You see, I lived alone for a long time before Jay and I got married and I always loved it. Like go home on Friday and not speak to another soul (in person) until Monday morning love it. Then we got married and I had some adjusting to do. I was actually quite stressed the first few months of our marriage because Jay came to my, I mean our home...everyday and to be fair it was actually his home that I invaded. Everytime I voice this caveat, I'm met with confused and slightly concerned looks...but just to be clear, I adore my husband! I just happen to also adore hanging out by myself. That's all. 

So here is a run down of my weekend in a few pictures:

I ran to my parents on Saturday for a quick bite and to see Baby O. He's a tiny sweetie. I took a nap just like Owen but I'm sure that I wasn't as cute...

I made a dinner that consisted solely of 4 stuffed peppers. One of the beauties of not cooking for my 'meat and potatoes' guy. Delicious! 

I came to grips with my inability to put things in their proper place the first time. Look at my week in shoes though! Very well balanced! 

And finally I watched several glorious hours of Real Housewives of Beverley Hills, Orange County and New Jersey with this gal. We love trash tv and we love it large quantities! I may have also watched Legally Blonde and eaten 6 Outshine popsicles...but I'll never tell. 

It's fun being me. 

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Geri-what?!

So I braved the vet with Stella and Ally on Saturday morning all by myself. This is a feat because Ally usually forgets that she's attached to anyone and attempts to run wild. If you can imagine a big dog pulling a person who is pulling/dragging a fat little pug then you get the idea. Train wreck. Ally also has a habit of only listening to her dad...which actually reminds me of my childhood and leaves me feeling remorseful. However, somehow this trip was totally different! Ally acted like a model citizen and Stella acted like a nut bag. 

Case and point. Blur of pug in the back. 

Anyways, I've gotten off topic. The real issue that I'm having is with the following conversation:

Me:  I need to schedule Stella to get her teeth cleaned. 

Vet: Great, and how old is Stella now?

Me: She turned 8 in November! (Very proud mom-like since I've been charged with keeping her alive for those 8 years...)

Vet: Well since she's GERIATRIC now we'll need to do an I-stat to ensure that she can go under the same anesthesia profile. 

Me: Geri-what?! She's only 8...

Vet: Yes, but 8 is past the halfway mark for the lifespan of most dogs so we'll just need to check some stuff. 

Geri-what? Geri-who? Surely not my girl!

I was devastated. I really hadn't thought about this much...I mean, logically, I understand 'dog years' and know that dogs don't live forever but I'm so sad to think that my dogs (who are all three between 8 and 9 years old) are on the other side of their lifespans. Just a little tough to swallow. I guess to put it in perspective I will just remind myself that I will consider it a true blessing if I'm able to care for and be a part of these lives until they are taken by old age instead of something more traumatic. Don't worry though, I'm pulling for my girl to last a long time! 

Puppy B. 

Big girl B. 

One last thing...Jay decided to save a little $$on dog care (he's innately frugal) and bought some clippers so that I didn't have to take Stella to the groomer. It goes without saying but...it did not go well. Bless her...

I wrote most of this last night but then something wonderful happened that I have to mention!! It rained!! Like real moisture falling from the sky. My dad called this morning and said that he and my brother got the best rain that they've had since October 2010!! Praise The Lord!

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