Oh. My. Abs.
During my riding lesson today, J had us doing some sitting trot during one portion of an exercise. For some background, you should know:
- Thanks to all the back injuries I had as an undergrad, I lost a lot of the “feel” I used to have while riding, and in order to really sit the trot, you have to be able to feel the horse’s back—what it’s doing, how it’s moving.
- My hips are very tight—and to sit the trot, you also need loose hips. But I’ve been having trouble moving with the horse at the walk—even when I could feel how she was moving.
- As a result of #1 and #2, we’ve done very little sitting trot—and the thought of sitting trot terrified me a little bit, because if you can’t feel what the horse is doing and move with it, you end up bouncing around like a sack of rocks, which isn’t good for the horse’s back—or yours. And I’m not interested in screwing up my back again.
I couldn’t really tell you how it happened, but something clicked, in the way things sometimes click. I was sitting the trot today better than I have EVER sat the trot before. When you’re really sitting it, all the horse’s movement gets absorbed in your seat/hips… I don’t know how to explain it, but it’s an incredible, incredible feeling.
However, the movement is not unlike doing those bicycle crunches—you know the ones where you take your elbow to the opposite knee? Imagine doing a very subtle variation of that—think of flexing/moving your ab muscles just a few inches up and down, up and down… for fifteen or twenty minutes.
Not to take anything away from the how amazing the sitting trot feels but… Oh. My. Poor. Abs.
The carnivore strikes again
M: If I don’t have a meeting Tuesday, I’ll make stew or something out of that roast.
Me: You’ll make what? Wait… you mean the roast we cooked on Friday?
M: Yes.
Me: I’ve been eating it all weekend. Was I not supposed to do that?
M: I just thought it’d be too tough to eat.
Me: It’s quite good, actually. And half gone now. If you want to have any of it, I recommend staking your claim now, because the other half won’t last until Tuesday.
M: Oh. Well, that’s fine. [pause] You could have told me it turned out ok.
Me: [wiping gravy off chin] Sorry. It, um, turned out great. Have some for lunch?
Speaking of dying
You know that long-range missile North Korea might test? The one that could reach the U.S. if it works? When they say “hit the U.S.” they mean “hit Alaska” (and Hawaii, I assume). And when they say “hit Alaska” they mean “my house.”
I wouldn’t worry too much, though. The news station showed us a picture of a golf-ball-shaped… thing… that’s supposed to save us all. Plus, so far the paranoid populace of this city have shown a general lack of concern about the whole missile issue. Remember, these are the people who panic every October (Snow? Oh-mi-god! No one told me there would be snow this year! Must buy enough supplies to last for three years in case the world ends in a huge blizzard!) and who think a rumbling volcano is cause for a state-wide evacuation. But a missile threat by a hostile country that could potentially set off fireworks in our backyard? (Of course, we’d have to fine North Korea if they did that, because fireworks are not allowed in city limits. There are signs saying so and everything.) People aren’t even stocking up on bottled water. I’m a little disappointed by the apparent equanimity of this city, actually. It’s hard to make fun of common sense.
If they start buying all the canned goods in town, I’m moving to… not Kansas, sorry. Too many targets in Kansas. Ohio. There’s nothing worth shooting at in Ohio.
My lotion scares me a little bit
Granted, my lotion does not scare me nearly as much as yellow sauce does, but… when’s the last time you really looked at your lotion?
Mine happens to be purple. It smells like plum. I don’t particularly like it (the color or the smell), but it was free. *shrug*
Normally, I don’t pay any attention to it. It’s lotion, you know? But as I was putting it on today, it occurred to me… where does the purple coloring go? If I used enough of this stuff, would it dye me purple, the way eating too many carrots can apparently turn you orange?
Yeah, ok, I didn’t really wonder if it would dye my skin purple, because I’m not six years old. But I am a little creeped out at the thought of rubbing purple stuff on my hands and having the purple color just… disappear. Or green. My old lotion was green: same question. Where does the green go?
Or Mineral Ice, which is a wicked-cool blue gel… the blue also disappears. Mineral Ice, however, is tingly and squishy and generally fun to play with. Lotion is just… lotion. There’s less gel-ly fun going on, so nothing to distract me from the issue of the disappearing dyes.
Anyway. I have to go wash off this plum scent because it’s driving me crazy, and the act of washing it off will probably counteract whatever good I did by putting lotion on in the first place, but I can handle dry skin—I cannot handle this stink.
Plum. Purple. Good grief.
I never worried about the color of lotion before, you know. Maybe I’m sick—it must be all that dye. *twitch*
If you don’t hear from me in the next few days, it’s because the cats have mistaken me for a… whatever sort of food you use plums in, actually; I wouldn’t know… and eaten me. Good grief; should you be able to smell this stuff from three rooms away? It has presence. And possibly bodyguards and a press secretary. It really does scare me.
Stumbling Down Memory Lane
Names changed to protect the innocent. Or, in some cases, because I have no idea who I was talking to.
Joy: Why were you and Stacy arguing last night?
Me: Because she was line dancing too slowly.
Joy: Line dancing? But you weren’t playing any music to line dance to.
Me: So?
- - - - -
Joy: Ok… but then, why were you and Kelly hitting each other?
Me: We were boxing.
Joy: But I thought you were line dancing with Stacy?
Me: I was boxing too.
Joy: Before or after the line dancing?
Me: During. It seemed like the right thing to do.
- - - - -
Joy: So should I ask what you and Jean were doing?
Me: I was teaching her to do cart wheels.
Joy: I thought you didn’t know how to do cart wheels.
Me: What’s that got to do with anything?
- - - - -
Me: (to cashier) Actually, I don’t want this sewing machine. We were just taking it for a walk. It looked lonely sitting on the shelf by itself.
- - - - -
Me: (On a tour bus) Courtney, why are there all these people on this bus?
Courtney: Because their bus broke down.
Me: But they aren’t in our tour.
Courtney: We’re just dropping them off at their hotel.
Me: Oh. (pause) Does the driver know they are on this bus?
- - - - -
Allie: There’s no way you could walk a straight line.
Me: I could. I’m not that drunk.
Allie: Fine. Walk this line (points to a line in the kitchen tile pattern)
(Pause while I stand up and stumble over to the designated line, the watching of which caused the entire kitchen to break into laughter, causing me to laugh, leaving me clinging to the counter and trying not to fall down.)
Me: But (laughing) if (laughing) I weren’t (wheezing and laughing) laughing so much (gasping for breath) I could totally (laughing) walk a straight line. Really. (laughing, wheezing, and practically falling on my arse) Stop laughing! I could walk that line (falling down) if you would just stop laughing!
- - - - -
You probably had to be there.