A simple girl in a complex world
Friday, May 02, 2003
1) Batting gloves
2) Weight lifting gloves
3) Cycling gloves
Shoes (and boots!)
1) Softball cleats
2) Cross trainers
3) Cycling clippy-thing shoes
4) Ice skates
1) ~10 sports bras
2) Infinite t-shirts
3) 4 pairs of soccer shorts
4) sport socks - who KNOWS how many pairs
1) Softball bat
2) Cycling helmet
3) Softball glove
4) Knee pads (volleyball)
5) 2 softballs
6) Bike rack (for 3 bikes)
7) Rollerblade pads
1) Nautilus incline/decline bench
2) Ankle weights
3) Dumbbells - 5, 7, 10, 12, 15, 20, 25, 30 pounds.
4) Two Pilates tapes
Oh, and the new bike!
Is this not insane? 3/4 of this stuff resides in my vehicle; my poor car has metamorphed into a gear-hauling machine.
Now, what does this all mean? Probably insanity. I was a good girl today and took a day off from the gym, focusing on my sports EQUIPMENT instead.
The bike's pedals were not properly adjusted so the little clippy shoe thingees would clip in properly. I managed to get the left foot clipped while holding on to my credenza in my office (and balancing on the bike). It wouldn't come out, though. So, limber as a flying squirrel, I dismounted somehow and unhooked myself from the shoe, adjusted the tension, put my foot in the shoe, mounted the bike, and repeated this process until I could pop the shoe out with a twisting motion. Stir, beat, then fold - had to do that three more times and test it all. Riding should be tomorrow.
Oh, and, more readership, please. GAINPRO!
Thursday, May 01, 2003
This one is dated "Wednesday Morning." Any and all Wednesdays. It starts:
So, while you're at it, Republican party, please stop sending correspondence to the Nobbles. I promise they don't live here. And President Bush, since you're "counting on me," perhaps on Thursday morning you can give me a call and we'll discuss the country. I'll be waiting.
Oh, I almost missed this gem:
He's the dude on the phone. I'd hide in the closet, too.
Oh, and thankyouthankyou Brian m'love for finding the pic for me again. I printed it in February of 2002, and it is still affixed to my cubicle wall at work.
DON'T SEND MONEY. It's not necessary.
Yet. Buhahahahaha. I love these little scolding letters with their tones of "you bad dog if you don't join/send us [more] money."
Directive: "Just mail your Acknowledgement (notice capitalization - deified!) in the postage-paid envelope. Then put the enclosed card in your wallet."
And, just what happens if I defy this order? My wallet refuses!
Warning: "If you don't let us know within 14 days, Club rules require me to remove your name from our membership roll. So please do it now."
Hmm, really. Is that so. Is there a reason, then, why my refrigerator sports two previous magnets from your "charter" club that I have never joined. Smirk along to the music now. The third magnet is just itching to join in.
It's important you red this entire letter
Oh, obviously. Cooking Club of America - you will save the world, no? Donate a few pineapples in my name, please.
The rest is just drivel in cookingese. I'll not bore you. Let's go on to the next piece of mail.
I'm a dressbarn customer. I admit it. I even have the credit card. So, whyowhy did these bozos (read: dressbarn's computer system) send the $10 off coupon to BRIAN NOGGLE.
I fear this. I'm certain he would look smashing in some pastels, though. Perhaps we'll go to the sale together.
Wednesday, April 30, 2003
I want to be the t-shirt model for this. Someone recommend me? I can't just go in there in the comments and recommend myself, you see, because that would be far too blatant and I'd have no credability.
On p. 118 of Self magazine's May, 2003 issue, in the center of the page in yellow in the shape of a burger, sits this gem, which contains "yes" and "no" arguments to our friendly above-posted subject.
The "no" arguer has some brains: blah blah blah weight blah "...but litigation isn't the solution." Thank you, next?
The "yes" arguer needs a big shot of rational-thought epinephrine. Get a load of this...verbatim.
Drop that french fry, Bob, and take note. You are not an individual. You do not have free thought. See, you dropped the fry when I told you to, didn't you? Obviously, you, Bob American, cannot think for yourself. You haven't the slightest idea that you're possibly overweight because your id desires a super-sized meal...six times a week, and you feed your body with your id. You can't possibly, with the glut of information available from library to library to web site to website site, endeavor to KNOW that behavior of any form has specific consequences. How shocked you would be if only Margo would swoop down with gilded wings and show you THE WAY and incite you to call the sleaziest attorney in town.
Oh, Margo, please. Are you one of those women who's going to insist that all women are oppressed? Perhaps I should write and ask. Obviously, all of those frivlous lawsuits against the tobacco companies are making great strides toward reducing smoking. Suuuuuuuure. Public pressure does nada. I'll give you that, though, if you'll recognize that you're a hemisphere away from linking that public pressure thing to lawsuits reducing obesity. What's next, Ruffles? Frito Lay? The Olive Garden for offering Tour of Italy as "a meal"?
Ugh. Fast food? Subway, please, if you want a gentle suggestion and are on the run. McDonald's, eh, it won't kill you every once in a while, OBVIOUSLY. Just try to keep the frequent nugget miles low, Bob. And skip the lawsuit.
Tuesday, April 29, 2003
And, in the news this morning, since there's little else to talk about of late BUT SARS, MSN reported that A-Rod ain't a gonna leave his hotel room much while he's in Toronto. Hey, that's great. My question? Why is the hotel safe but the soon-to-be-not-frequented malls and restaurants not so? And how is this really "SARS precautions." Don the mask, wimpo; it could be your next endorsement.
And, of course, later in the day, the WHO (in this article) said Tuesday it will "take Toronto off its list of countries travelers should avoid over concerns about SARS because the city seems to have the disease under control." Wow, Toronto's a country. Lazy, lazy writer.
So, whom should we trust here? Tsk to the media for taking something so entirely inconsequential as a few days in A-Rod's life and making it a headline. Man bites dog, eh? Perhaps tomorrow it'll be "John Travolta chooses ziti over orzo."
I'll tell you what Gainpro grows. It's hits! But, if you're visiting this site to enlarge your penis, I'm afraid you're out of luck.
Monday, April 28, 2003
As I drove to work this morning, I noted the new fully-grown yellow and purple tulips gracing the median of one of Creve Coeur's finest streets. I thought, hmm. Tax dollars hard hard at work. It reminded me of about a year ago when Brian and I were in Chicago to celebrate our wedding anniversary. This was May, and Chicago has some pretty well-kept and manicured flowers lining its sidewalks and streets. But, this being May, meant spring flowers were no longer fashionable, I suppose. At around 6:00 p.m. city workers were hard at, well, work, REMOVING the perfect tulips in favor of some fresher, more summery, replacements. Everywhere we walked was strewn (well, okay, they were in piles) with uprooted tulips.
Now, forgive me if you must, but I was APPALLED. I can see ripping out dried, dead used-to-be flowery plumage, but perhaps the citizens of Chicago would be better served (if one can prove that flowers/plants SERVE) with plants that last all season or whose lifespans persist from year to year.
But, hey, who ever said minutiae government made any sense. I'm going to go eat some state grapes now.
Sunday, April 27, 2003
Today, Sunday April 27, marked a momentous occasion. My esteemed spouse was bitten by the gardening bug (which we pray was not radioactive). And because of said proclamation that we should "buy some flowers," we loaded our selves and debit card into the blue truck made for hauling things and ventured to the local greenhouse. Which was closed. The truck pulling in before us noticed this first, and we followed it to Schmittel's Nursery just down the road in the more rural part of Earth City which really means it's more of a flood plain.
Somewhere in the middle of choosing annuals, the same bug (which must've travelled with us in the truck) bit me as well. Chomp! Hey, I think we need some herbs. I think we need a LOT of herbs. OreganoParsleyThymeSageTarragonBasil squared.
We spent our fair fortune and returned home to stash the plants and begin part two of our journey - the Home Depot. The great orange emporium was so full of plants and folks and folks buying plants that we bilked the system and bought our planting supplies INDOORS (what a concept). Brian was even so stealthy as to filch mulch from another cart that was masquerading as a mulch display (honest).
And then we returned home to face the daunting reality of where to put all this stuff. We had our cedar borders, our two bags of potting soil, our bag of topsoil, our gardening tools, our annuals, our herbs, and our intrepid faith that man (and woman) would prevail over plant.
And it did, er, we did.
It's mostly planted. The mailbox sports eight new smiling plants and a beautiful coat of decorative rock. The ghetto door (smirk, Adam, please) is flanked by two faux pottery long planting boxes filled with beauteous (read: not dead) flowering plants. Heather's herbs sit in more of our favored faux pots, all in a row.
The roses are planted and should bear bloom before 2007.
The purple thumb, you ask? Well, that's a reality. Thank you, softball practice. Ow.