Archive | March 2012

I’ll smash your face in


I finished my fighter bootcamp Tuesday night.  It was about 1 1/2 hrs.  OMG, it was good!  We learned how to “mount” our opponent (oh, yes, I had my way with the trainer), knee someone in the gut and then how to get someone off of you and roll them over.  At the end, we did two rounds of speed/strength/boxing drills, and we each got two 1 minute rounds to fight with our trainer.  Oh, yeah, and I held a car tire over my head for a minute.  (Last week I did 35 shoulder presses with it.)  Did I mention he does MMA (that’s mixed martial arts)?  He was all padded up with gear and we got to try out our punch combinations and kicks on a real, live target. I did pretty good except one of my kicks connected with his elbow and now my lower shin is sore as hell.  It feels like it should be black and blue but instead it’s tender to the touch.  Lucky, it’s one of the few places on my legs that don’t bruise.  Anyways, it was awesome!  I can’t believe I’m saying this but I ENJOY hitting someone. I loved it!   As long as they don’t hit me back, that is.

The trainer didn’t present much of a target, he didn’t make it easy and he kept moving which meant I had to go after him which meant by the end of the round I could barely breathe.  Damn asthma.  It’s those moments that make you realize just how out of shape you are!  Kinda makes you appreciate those guys who have to last 3 minutes per round with each other and of course, they’re in supreme condition.

You pay extra for the figher bootcamp, but you certainly get your money’s worth. The class was supposed to be an hour and it was always 1 1/2 hrs.  I have to say I was pretty surprised at the level of encouragement and support women receive at this gym.  As long as you make an effort, they’re right there cheering you on and don’t make you feel fat and useless.  Hubby thinks I have a crush on my trainer. I don’t.  I don’t think of him in THAT way, he can’t be more than 25 or so.   It’s just that he seems so sincere with his business.  He’s not trying to get you to lose weight, he’s teaching you how to punch and kick.  He doesn’t criticize you, he only encourages you to do your best.  Our group had varying ages and sizes, some in shape and some grossly out of shape.  But we all were committed and no one complained.   No one has the intention of taking up MMA and certainly don’t want to break anybody’s leg or get a black eye.  But when I came home that night, I didn’t care about my sore shin, I felt positively giddy because I felt strong and competent and empowered.

I’ve got a crush on that.

Monkey mischief

We’ve been taking care of a friend’s dog, an adorable flat coat retrieve, 18 months old. I don’t know what it is about us that people over the years keep wanting us to take care of their pets.  Oh, yeah, I know what it is.  We usually say yes.  And we almost always regret it.  I might add, that with few exceptions, the favour is not returned for one reason or another.

The first day I left him alone in the basement I was gone a couple of hours.  The result was that he chewed up some of the play mat, strewed the garbage all over, chewed up one of the kid’s nerf basketball and scratched up the padded tile floor.  Picture an explosion or orange and yellow foam bits, laundry plastic and chocolate bar wrappers.) I did not take a picture of that. So hubby set up a camera system (via his tablet/my laptop) to see if he could yell correct the dog but he couldn’t get the sound right.  Finally, at my suggestion, he grudgingly went to get his kennel and had to drive 30 minutes there and back. 


This is what happened the next day I went out for a couple of hours.  Actually, the front gate(though it was locked) was pulled forward into the crate.  What you can’t see is the pools of drool.  Obviously the dog has a major case of separation anxiety.  I left my dog, Juno, downstairs with him in the vain hope that he would see her sleeping, remain calm and would do the same.  So, on Wednesday, we put in an old rug to cover the bottom. That ended up soaked and chewed. The crate was next to the sofa and he pulled the slipcover through the bars and chewed a hole in it.  More  pools of slobber.  So not only does hubby have to take the dogs out for an hour after work, but he also cleans up the mess that is left over.  (Ah, no the bars of the kennel already looked like that.)  Thursday, with the crate pulled away from the sofa, the crate just looked like this.


You can see the slobber next to the cage.  At first, hubby was frustrated and angry with the dog, but eventually he figured out the calm, non punative way was best.  (Though he’s been through this before with our own dog, remember Juno the Destroyer? He finally listened to me has to figure it out on his own.)  It’s apparent that the dog has limited training and his needy, separation anxiety ways have not been addressed by his owner.  The dog has major anxiety when left alone and even when I’m home with him, he barely sleeps and when I move, he jumps up.  He continues to try to get back up on the furniture even when you repeatedly tell him to get down and he’ll even try to SNEAK back up next to you.  He’ll even sleep on your foot to keep track of you.  In a way, this means he thinks he’s leader of the pack and you can’t go anywhere without him.  (This is what his owner does.  Leaves him to wreck havoc or takes him wherever he goes.  Except this week apparently.) It’s a little like trying to move around with a black, silky 70 lb pillow who constantly licks following you.  Good news is that the Precious adores him of course.  He always asks where he is or more commonly screams “Monkey, go sit down!” cause that’s all we do.

It’s hard to get mad at a dog who looks like this. 

He leaves tomorrow night.  We’ll miss you Monkey.  Well, sort of.

WTF?!!! Seriously?!

I may call this WTF Wednesday.

Did you click on the link above?  Go ahead, I’ll wait.  Did you watch it all the way through?  This is a joke, right?  Like Sasha Baron Cohen’s Borat character?  That’s gotta be Tracy Ullman.  Cause if it’s not….



Hey, lady, the kid is crying, “I’M NOT A *!%& YOYO, ENOUGH ALREADY!”  I guarantee you that no kid she ever touches will ever want to ride on a rollercoaster.  Hey, here’s an idea to promote your child’s health – feed them good food and don’t give them to this nutjob woman. 

Breaking down

About a month into hubby’s new job and I’m back at the chiropracter’s office.  Twice.  Three times.  Sigh.  Apparently motherhood is hazardous to my health.  Good news is that the Precious seems to finally be over his bronchitis.  Unfortunately, he seems to have gotten used to his days lolling about watching TV, walking the dog and having his temperature taken several times a day by his crazy mummy.  (I bought a new fancy digital  ear thermometer (on sale – Braun) to replace the old Safety 1st one I bought in the States when we first had the Precious.  Oh, I kept the $5 simple digital one too but they both kept giving me different temperatures (one if Fahrenheit and one in Celsius); it was driving me nuts.  I was just confusing myself by using one for the ear and the other for the armpit/mouth.  The ole’ hand over the forehead seemed to be just as accurate.)

My pseudo kickboxing is coming along nicely.  I say pseudo because if anyone actually kicked me back, I’d fold faster than Superman on laundry day.   I joined the fighter bootcamp (motto:  Fighting Solves Everything) and I am enjoying it.  I get really embarrassed when I suck air, but the combination of being out of shape and exercise induced asthma keeps me humble.  I have to say that hitting is quite addictive.  That satisfying smack on the sparring pads!  Ah, true love. It’s what keeping me sane, people.  Despite my aching shoulder joints, stiff back and bad knees, the group never makes anyone feel bad about being less than stellar.  I’m hard on myself, I just wish I was better coordinated.  The trainer is very supportive and encouraging.  Now I just wish I did not give in to hormone induced cheating this week.  I confess!  I had a Skor candy bar and a can of Pringles.  Then I got my period.  That explains it.

The PMS has gotten way worse over the past several months.  I tried to talk to my doctor about this, the problems with sleeping, weight gain, fatigue, etc.  I got a thyroid and blood test.  Normal results, whatever that means.  She recommended cutting down caffeine, exercise, going to bed earlier.  I’ve done all three, exercise being the most effective.  She suggested melatonin for the sleep issue.  It didn’t really work.  I still woke up 2 or 3 times.  The next thing is sleeping pills, but truly, that will only  solve one issue and with a kid in the house, I don’t really want to be in a coma if he needs me.   I think what I’m looking for is a way to deal with perimenopause in a more holistic fashion so perhaps she’s not the right person to talk to.  She can give me pills for depression but I’m not actually sick.    I looked up a clinic that deals with midlife health and of course, they charge about $1000 for testing and a strategy.   I’m sure there’s a whole list of supplements they’ll want me to buy, too.  Forget that.  I’m going to go to the bookstore and see what I can find on my own.   I’m tired of the foggy thinking, completely forgetting about things a day later, it freaks me out and embarrasses me at the same time.  Having a mother with dementia doesn’t help either.  I may have to drag my ass to a naturopath (aahh…. oh the memories of the diet detox…. twigs and berries….not pleasant… all to get me healthy for pregnancy… oh man.)

Wish me luck.