Foolin' the Cat

Y'all know we have a cat. He's an 8 year old orange Tabby that we adopted from the Humane Society 2 years ago. His name is Sylvester. Syl for short.



And, he's got it rough in our home, as you can see.

Over the months, as Syl came to settle in, he learned our routines and our habits. And since his favorite time of the day is meal time, he became especially keen in learning specific habits of ours around that time.

Syl is fed in the morning before I leave for work, and again at night before I go to bed. So its about every 12 hours. Meal time is the only worth while time in a cats life, and I wholey believe that. Every other minute of the day must be pure torture to them.

So. Our precious adopted kitty is now one of the most annoying creatures on the planet. This cat howls and screams and growls. He whines and nitpicks and bitches about everything. And he can't even talk!

I wake up. As soon as the alarm goes off, Sylvester pounds on the door. Yes, you heard me. He pounds on the bedroom door. There is an 1/8th inch of space in the door and the jam. So when he paws at it, it literally makes the door bang against the jam.

I get up. I let dogs out. I shower. Its when I open the bathroom door and Syl can see what I'm doing in the bathroom (drying my hair, applying my 'face', curling my hair, etc) that Syl knows its time to count down. And he fully believes that if he doesn't make a flipping racket at that time, then I will forget about his breakfast and walk out the door without feeding him.

Do you know what an 18lb cat sounds like when he thinks he is starving to death? Meow. Meeeooowwwww. Yyyyyooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww. YYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW! Rrrrrrrrrrrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyoooooooooooooooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

Then he walks around my feet and tries to trip me. He's not going to let me walk away without feeding him. If I still havent fed him and I'm gathering my purse and putting the dogs away for the day, he throws a freakin fit. A full blown child's tantrum. Feeding him right before I walk out the door is habit for me. The dish is right near the door, so its just easier to do it on my way out.

Onto the evening. Come home, let the dogs out. Make dinner. Watch a little TV. When I start brushing my teeth and washing my face to get ready for bed, the orange monster starts throwing his fit again. Mmmeeeooowwwww. MMMmMmmmmmmmmeeeeeeeeeeeeeoooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! YYYOOOoooooooooooowwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww! YYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLL!
And this cat's got a set of pipes on him, folks.

So, this morning, I decided I wasnt going to take it anymore. I have never, ever forgotten to feed that cat. Not ever! I don't know why he feels the need to announce to the world that we are starving him to death. He gets more food in a day than most cats, I can tell you that. He didn't get to 18lbs by starving.

I was going to fool the cat. So I got dressed. I shut the bathroom door. I already had my purse and my lunchbox ready to go. Then about 10 minutes before I was to leave, I fed the cat. He hadn't even made a sound yet. He looked at me for a second then went to his dish and ate. Then he sat next to his dish and watched me. I gathered up my things and grabbed my keys. Sylvester looked at me and made a very soft mewing sound. And then I left.

I fooled the cat. I didn't have to listen to him bawl me out this morning. I am going to have to switch up the routine every couple of days just to keep him guessing. Better than going insane by a meowing cat, right?



See all of those bones poking out from his skin?? NO! You dont! All you can see are chubby orange fat rolls!

& Sylvester the starving cat

The Tikka & The Chevy

This past weekend, we went out to a friend's farm and had some good old fashioned country fun. You will recall Red buying me a rifle for Christmas. I still hadn't shot it and I was sick and tired of waiting. Dave had put the new scope on and so we decided it was the perfect day to get it sighted in.

I love it. I knew it was perfect for me when I first held it. But now that I've shot it, and shot it well, I know that it was made for me.



The target I was aiming for was 100 yards down the way there. We only sighted in 50 and 100 yards. I am told that we get to go another 300 yards into the field when there isn't so much wind and sight in 200, 300 and 400 yards. Yikes.

Tyler stopped by with his truck. Many of you don't know this about me, but I used to be a huge automobile person. Old cars and trucks fascinated me. I even went to school briefly as an auto tech. But it didn't stick. Still, when he pulled up with this beauty, I couldn't help but revert back to my teenage self.

I'm not even a Chevy person. And given a choice of the two, I would choose the big, silver Ford next to it. But that doesn't mean I can't drool over this candy orange truck for a bit, right?

Back to Dane-olism

Danes have slowly been coming back into my life. Some are little ironic, unplanned instances, while others are thought out. Like Saturdays transport of Lucy. That was just sheer pleasure for me. Yesterday, I took my two fur-loonies for a walk and we came across a surprisingly small woman with a Mastiff in one hand and a Great Dane in the other. Both were walking calmly on their leashes at her sides. Best behaved giant dogs I have met in a long time! I completely oogled over her dogs, while she oogled over mine. I suppose my Aussie and my Lab were just tiny dogs to her.

I call it Dane-olism, and I talked about it last spring. Its like alcoholism, but rather than alcohol, its Great Danes that have wrapped themselves around your heart. The day my Merc left, I expressed the deep depression it sent me reeling into. I didnt know how I would live without that Dane dog.

To refresh your memories, here is Merc.




Not her best photo, I know. I loved her intense, ice blue eyes. And yes, this was as clean as I could keep her. You can't keep white dogs clean in the spring, people. Its just not a possibility.

I didn't think I would ever recover from losing Miss Merc. But I do hear from her new adoptive family occasionally and that helps to ease the pain.

Last summer we had Diesel. Diesel was an 18 month old huge male who was living tied up behind a garage by his backyard breeder who didnt want him anymore.



What a sweetheart he was. A giant sweetheart. He's now living with his new adoptive family, who also have another Dane.



Watch out, Red. Em's got Dane-olism again.

Another Great Dane?

Yes!!

But not for me. I know... Shucksdarn.

You heard me. I said shucksdarn.

I got to transport a rescued Great Dane today!



Her name is Lucy. Shes a beautiful, smaller sized Great Dane. Smaller for the breed, but not small by any means!

This poor baby was almost shot in a field by her owners because they simply didnt want her anymore. But luckily, the Dane Rescue stepped up and lined up a multiple state transport to get her to safety. She is now in her loving new foster home where she will put on some pounds before she finds her new forever home.



This beautiful baby did not deserve the fate that she almost met.

And it was an honor to be apart of her rescue. Even if I was just a driver.

Lucky for Red, I wasn't able to bring this tall drink of water home with me today. She already has a foster home waiting for her. But that didnt mean I didnt get to have a little fun with Red today, getting him worked up by telling him that my plans for today were to go get a Great Dane in Iowa. He didnt have to know right away that she wasnt coming home with me. It was fun watching him squirm at the thought of yet another Dane entering our home.

Hey, a girl's gotta have her fun.

First Beers & Best Friends

And yes, this post does go hand in hand with Ag Week.

My first beer, well, my first real beer... (there were a few instances where we took some cans from my friend's dads case, but it was this Olde Style crap that we couldnt take more than a sip of. Ack!)
Anyways, back to my first real beer. Its related to Ag Week in a few different ways.

First, it was in a tractor.

Second, we were in a field.

And Third, I was with a dairy farmer. Yeah, a dairy farmer. Well, the son of a dairy farmer, and 2 years and grades older than myself.

This is how it went. Well first I should maybe mention that I had stolen this guy from a friend of mine. Yeah, some friend I was right? But in my defense, I didnt actually intend to steal him. They were dating and he spent a lot of time in the Ag building... (Which if you are a faithful reader of Musings, then you know what that is by now, and that I, too, spent a lot of time there)

When I first met him (I was in 9th grade at the time) he was sitting in the office of the ag building just dinking around. And since that was common there, I went in and started talking to him. I had nothing to do. I didnt even like him like that at first, so quit judging me already! Anyways.. He was in FFA and 4H and he had dairy cattle and was doing field work. We became fast friends. He ended up breaking up with his girlfriend after a while and then later (later as in weeks, not hours, people!) he invited me out to his house for dinner. I knew his parents from 4H and adored them both so I agreed.
He gave me a tour of his farm. It was dark outside already and he kissed me next to a giant bale of straw.. It was so sweet. But nothing against him or anything... But I think I was more turned on by all the giant hay bales and the big farm machinery and mooing cows than I was by him. But its all about learning and the experience, right?

It was a Friday night and his dad had some work for him to do in the field, so without even an invitation I jumped up into that combine in front of him and he looked up at me and gave me one of those interested, quizzical looks. Most of his past girlfriends wouldnt go near his dirty farm, much less voluntarily climb into a dusty old combine in the middle of the night. I know I impressed him.

He joined me in the combine and took the drivers seat. And he offered me a can Miller Lite. Now, stop judging him, because I know where your mind just went. He had no intentions of getting me drunk that night. Nor did I get drunk. I remember being a little nervous. I didnt know how I would handle a beer. But I drank the beer and I kissed him some more. It was a fun, innocent evening. Then he drove me home in his big, dusty Ford pickup truck. We saw each other a few more times. But it never would have lasted. We were too good of friends for anything to come out of it. And I dont regret it one bit because that country boy and his parents took on a huge role in the upcoming years of my life. He taught me everything he knew about the dairy industry. They leased me holstein heifers to show for them. There were numerous times when his dad would have to come out and jump or tow the old Jeep Wagoneer when it would die on the side of hwy45.

I talked with that country boy just the other day. He is one of my closest friends in the world. One of those comfortable opposite sex friends who can call you 'babe' and 'beautiful girl' in the middle of a conversation without it meaning anything except true, friendly affection. This friend is one of the many who helped launch me into my agricultural endeavors. And I love him for it.

Oh, did I mention that he's a redhead? Whodathunkit.

I Understand Now...

Anybody watch The Biggest Loser on NBC on Tuesday nights? Well I do. This is like season 7 I think. But this is the first season that I have watched religiously, all the way through.

Those of you Loser fans, you will recall a few weeks ago when all of the colored teams sort of fell apart and the decision was made to split everybody into the Black team and the Blue team. Some of the team mates ended up losing their trainer and having to move to the other trainer. More specifically, some of Bob's trainees had to move over and start training under Jillian.

Well, do you remember how when everybody found out, they all had a fit and started crying and glubbering about losing their trainers?

I didn't understand that at first. I mean I know that shit happens and I know that being a person on TBL tv show is a very emotional thing. I mean who likes change, really?

But I understand now. I get it now. I recently started working out with my own personal trainer. Going into it, I'd wanted a female. Just because I figured that a female would understand the emotional aspects of being a heavy woman better than a man. But as it turns out, I clicked with Rik right away and so I opted to give him a chance.
I have worked one on one with Rik a handful of times now. And leaving the gym last night, I understood what the big deal was on The Biggest Loser when Bob's trainees had to switch trainers.

When you begin working with a personal trainer - a good, qualified, mindful personal trainer - you divulge everything from the get go. You can't hide your inches behind baggy clothes. You can't hide the stupid number that is your body weight. You don't get to lie about how in shape you really are. Because the first thing they do is break down all of those shields until all that is left is you. And then they start pushing you, and you are forced to show them your weaknesses. Every single one of them. If you dont show them, they will fight it out of you.

They take down your weight. They take down your height. They take down your inches. They stick you on a treadmill and write down that skyrocketing number that is your heartrate. They watch you pant and sweat and they see your face turn fire engine red. They stand over you while you struggle and battle with yourself. They get to see, first hand, you while you make a damn fool of yourself.

But that whole time, they are offering words of encouragement. They are patting you on the back. A good trainer is caught up with only you for that hour. A good trainer is not distracted by anything around you. A good trainer, no matter how much you think you suck, will make you realize they are there to help you become the best person that you can possibly be, and that they will be there guiding you every single step of the way. And they wont let your weaknesses get in your way. They learn them, and then they block them.

This is how I know I understand now. The trust and faith you put into somebody who you have bared it all to, from day one, is a very powerful thing.

Ag Day

Friday is National Agriculture Day. And in many states, its Ag Week this week.
So to celebrate, I want to share how agriculture has changed my life.

I was not born on a farm. I was not raised on a farm. My family, at least the ones living near me, don't have ties to agriculture or farming or anything like that. So where did I come from?

I can ride horses with the best of them. I can handle cattle like a pro. I know what Garth is talking about when he sings about 'latigo' in his song 'Rodeo'. I listen to country, which was a given. I own multiple pairs of cowboy boots and a handful of cowboy hats. I own a pair of chaps, too. Did ya know that? Betcha didn't. I have a heifer halter hanging in my basement on a nail. Yes, a heifer halter. And I know what a heifer is. I can drive a tractor and a combine. I am at home in the middle of corn and bean fields. I like big trucks and camo and hunting.

Up until I was in about 6th grade, I had no interest or even knowledge of anything 'agriculture'. Except horses. But every girl my age was dreaming of horses. In 7th grade, I saw an ad for The Morning Flame Riders. It was a group looking for volunteers to help at a stable. The Riders was a group for the handicapped and/or disabled to teach them to ride and care of an animal and build confidence. And just to have fun, really. I asked my dad and he took me out to see what it was all about. I joined instantly. I either helped groom horses and tack them up, lead the horse during the lesson, or walked next to the horses side to make sure the rider was balancing and wouldn't fall off. I loved it. Eventually, The Riders moved to a new stable closer to town. I went with them. There I met the people of my future. My friends, the loves of my life. The Riders used this second facility, "Gainey", for nearly a year before personalities clashed and they moved elsewhere. I was in 8th grade at this time. But when The Riders left, I stayed at Gainey. Horses became my life. The bus would drop me off after school in front of Gainey, I would do chores and then I was allowed to ride one of the lesson horses for an hour. Then my parents would pick me up. I did that nearly every day. My parents rarely had to ground me or take away normal privilages. They knew they could threaten to 'ground' me from Gainey and I would do my house chores and homework in a flash.

Gainey is also where I met my best friend 'Bri'. She showed dairy cattle with her mom and uncle. Her uncle also happened to be Tami's boyfriend. I started joining Bri on her trips to another farm to work with her cattle for the county fair and completely fell in love. I started showing horses and dairy cattle. I got up at 4am to milk cows and bath them. Then I would run to the horse barn and start working horses.

I have to back up here. Lets go back to the 8th grade. My friend Melinda was a year older than myself. And she was in the 9th grade. Grades 9 through 12 were held at the high school. During my summer between 8th and 9th grade, Melinda gave me a tour of the high school so I wouldnt be so afraid of it. (Yeah, high school terrified me. I'd heard the stories of what they did to the freshman) Anyways... At the end of our tour, we left the building and crossed the lot to a smaller building on the property. Melinda introduced me to the Egg Building. Yeah, egg. I had no idea what she was talking about. Neither did she apparently, because she didnt seem to know her way around that particular building. Then she confirmed my suspicions by claiming to never have spent time out there.

I later discovered that it was the 'Ag Building' rather than the egg building. Ag as in Agriculture. Classes out there ranged from small or large animal care, aquaculture, to shop (vehicles), horticulture, wildlife management and greenhouse. I didnt know all this during my original tour. But upon entering the 9th grade, I soon discovered that my place was not with the preppie cool kids in the commons as it had been in junior high. It was in the Ag building, with the country kids. I took every single class offered in that building. And when I was a junior and senior in high school and had a project pass (a project pass is when you had enough credits that you didnt have to take 4 full classes in a day, and could pick a class and just help the teacher or do homework or whatever) I would request my passes in the Ag Building. Through a mistake on my advisor's part, I was able to take 'Greenhouse' class twice, and have a project pass in the class. Meaning I basically went through the class 3 times. Once with the pass, and twice on my own account, acing it both times. The Ag Building had a greenhouse attached to it. Even now I feel warm and happy thinking about high school. I hated the required classes. But I was happy and at home when I was in the Ag building, taking classes that mattered to me. And I was good at it. Never got less than a B+ in any class offered in that building.

And the people I met there... How wonderful and kind are most country/farm people anyways... They are just the best. I was in FFA and 4H in high school. I loved the field trips we would take. We went to the arboritum many many times. It was there that I first decided I wanted to be a landscape designer. I know, I dont do that now. But I still dream of it. I love having my hands in the dirt. If I had a billion dollars, I would pay all of it to experience again everything I did in the Ag Building. Its where my heart still lies.

Today, I don't do much agriculturally or horticulturally. Becoming an adult kind of jumped in the way of my dreams. But it will happen someday for me again. I happen to be in love with a man who wants that for me, too. And when the time is right, we will head to the country and I will re-live my dreams again. I love my horses... But I'm not nearly as involved as I once was. I dont drive tractors or dump spreaders or show cattle anymore. But I did once. And I will again.

You might find me revelling more in my country past this week. I have more stories up my sleeve. Stories of love and laughter and friends. There were many beginnings in the country. And I fully intend to share them.

Anyways... I shudder to think what my life would be like today had I not been so taken with agriculture growing up. Who would I be if I had been like the other girls, jumping and screaming over cow shit? Who would I be if my dad had chosen to buy me a car instead of that 87 Jeep Grand Wagoneer with the wooden panels? Who would I be if my high school sweet heart had been a dumb, preppy jock who partied instead of the big hog showing, mud slinging truck driving, redneck football playing country kid that he was? So many little things influenced my life, always bringing me back to the country.

Taking My Business Elsewhere

That's right. I am taking my business elsewhere. In regards to my health I mean.

No no, don't panic, I haven't given up on my trainer Rik (even though I have been cursing his name for the past 3 days). For as much pain as I am in and as much as I'd like to blame it on Rik, that's not the case really. I mean he made me do it. But I pay him to make me do it.

No, I was forwarded a website by a coworker of mine. And I urge you all to check it out when you have time. Go to Skin Deep when you have some time. Anything that you use for your body (just about) is listed here. And it tells you how hazardous the chemicals in your favorite products are.

Olay Quench Body Lotion is my all time favorite. Until today. Did you know it rates 7-8 on a 0-10 safety scale? 0 being harmless, 10 being the most hazardous. Meaning the chemicals used in my lotion are either cancer causing, they aren't approved by the FDA, or there are high uncertanties about their future side effects.

As a population, we are generally more concerned about our appearance than anything else, and we will pay any amount of money and sacrifice years off our lives to achieve beauty. In your 20's or 30's, you might not be thinking about life when your 70 or 80. So shaving off 5 years doesnt seem like a big deal. But when you are 70, don't you think that you might wish you would have done something positive for your health? Physical beauty doesn't last forever ya know. So tell me, is it worth it?

I looked up every single product that I use in the bathroom on this website. And every single one of them will be permanently visiting the garbage can or recycling bin very soon.

A few months ago I checked out a company and their products very briefly. I first saw the them on the show 'Dirty Jobs' with Mike Rowe. He visited an organic 'bath and body' company who claimed to make shampoo out of mud. So after the show, I checked out their website and discovered they sell many 'beauty' items, including shampoos, conditioners, body lotions, deoderants, skin care products and even baby products. They are all organic and chemical free.

I ordered the trial pack of the facial care system. I suffer from acne. Always have. And nothing, not even the 3 years of Proactiv, would get rid of it. Well, this company's products work. I recieved my trial size, I used it. It smelled amazing. It felt great. It killed my acne overnight. Why didn't I keep using it? Well, it's expensive. I always meant to order again, but never got around to it.

The company is called Terressentials and I dare you to head over and check them out. I entered their products on the Skin Deep website and their products range from 0-3 on the hazard scale. Everything was 0-2 except for their deoderant, which hit a level 3. There are no chemicals. The products are organic and wonderful. I am going to pretend I'm 70yo. And I'm going to shell out a little extra $ today so that I can be healthy and happy when I am 70.

The Pain of a PT

I'll just come out and say it. Rik is kicking my ass. There just isn't any other way to put it. For those of you just joining us, Rik is my new personal trainer. I joined a gym that I love, and I signed up for a personal trainer. I was an idiot and I asked for the meanest trainer they offered.
Rik wasn't mean. At least not this first time around. But he has a way of pushing me without actually pushing. Its fascinating to meet a person whose job is to read you and know your body from day one. He knew the difference when I just wanted a break and when I truely needed to rest. It miffed me just a little bit. He knew it even before I did. At the time my brain wasnt really functioning because I was so exhausted. But looking back over the course of my first training session, I began to realize how good he is at his job.
I can tell already this is going to be a love/hate thing for me. I love the training. My trainer rocks, my gym rocks, the people I'm surrounded by rock. Everybody is so helpful. I love it. But I hate it. I hate all of it. It's so hard. I am not nearly as in shape as I thought I was. You know what he made me do, right out of the gate? After taking my weight and measurements and strapping me with all this heart rate equipment, he puts me on the treadmill and tells me to run a mile. And he stands there the whole time, watching me and watching the display, taking notes, punching up the speed. But what was interesting was that while on my own, I would have taken a number of walk breaks. Yet when he was there, he would say just the right thing to make me push out more. I ran faster for a longer length of time than I have since high school. And he didnt yell once. I wanted to punch him in the face a handful of times, yes. But he never yelled at me.
So back to my original reason for posting... Its been almost 2 days since my session with my trainer. And I hurt. Everything hurts. Rik believes in working multiple major muscle groups at a time, which turns into a full body workout in no time. I was okay driving home that night. But I had to fall out of bed the next morning. Things that I would normally be able to do without even thinking about it, such as stepping up a stair or sitting in a chair, now take a few seconds of strategic thinking to figure out how to get up or down in the most painless way possible. Dont ask me to get out of my chair at work. I have snarled at a few co-workers for doing just that. My arms hurt. My back hurts. My abs hurt. My lungs hurt. My ass hurts. My legs hurt. I cant reach over to answer the phone without whimpering. Its been almost two days. And I am supposed to do the whole workout over again by Friday. And then I have to meet with Rik again on Monday, where we will do it again. What if I havent recovered by then??? Help me!
Tonight I have an easy cardio day, since I am still in recovery. And this weekend will be another easy cardio day. I have to get through it somehow. Rik said that if it ever gets easy that he's not doing his job. Those are the most frightening words that he has said to me to date. Red assures me that only the first month or so will be this bad. Then my body will get used to this eventually.
Oh brother... What have I gotten myself into?

Music & Ghosts

This past Friday evening we attended our little town's 'Hometown Sampler'. It's an annual concert put on by local bands and the proceeds to the the local food shelf. The concert ran for 3 nights and the first night alone, Friday, they raised over $7,000! Very awesome.
My daddy has a band called "Senior Moment" and they joined in on the fun. I love listening to them play. My uncle Greg is also in the band.
But we will come back to that.
In past years when we have gone to the Hometown Sampler, it was held in one certain building. A building, I might add, that is reputed to be haunted. It's part of a handful of buildings that 100+ years ago was used an Indian orphanage. I don't know the details, as I am on the grounds multiple times a week for various reasons and since my time will be spent there, I decided I did not want to know the horrible history.

Well, we didn't know it, but they moved it to another building on the property this year. But like I said, we didnt know that. So we walked into the building. The door we would normally go through was locked. But the lights were on. Nobody was in sight. So, we jumped on the elevator, and when we jumped off again, we were confronted with this:



Endless, dark hallways. You walk to the end of a hallway, you can turn left or you can turn right. But you will only be faced with yet another...:

...Yup, dark, endless hallway. There are more creepy, echoing hallways in this one building than it looks like there should possibly be, looking at the size of the building itself.

I mildly wish now that I would have been a little more in my paranormal mood. It was a creepy night, it would have been fun being lost in a haunted 200 year old building. I mean check out the fog this particular night.

One of my favorite shows is 'Paranormal State' and I watched it on it's regularly scheduled time this past Monday evening. It was Tuesday that I came across an online forum discussing the different hauntings and ghost stories in our area. This place was on the list more than once, and in particular, the building that Red, myself and Jen and Jake were lost in Friday night. I was eager to check back on my photos taken in the basement for some apparitions... But no. No ghosts can be seen on any of my photos. Bummer!

But anyways... We finally made it to the concert. In another building, halfway on the other side of the grounds. A building, I might add, is also reported to be haunted. But ghosts were the last thing on my mind that night. My daddy was playing!

We were perched up on the balcony, so forgive the blurry of the photos here. My dad has been a drummer for most of his life and has been in quite a few really great bands. And there in the bright red tie with the guitar is my uncle Greg.
Would you look at the smile on my dad's face? You think he likes being a drummer? I think so, too.

And here is Senior Moment. You gotta hear them to believe them. Because sometimes even I dont believe the amazing old sound that comes from Barbie's throat. Or the skill in the music being pumped out of the band. If you like jazzy type oldies, you need to get a load of Senior Moment.

Unfortunately, while the preceeding generation of my family seem to all have amazing musical talents, I seemed to have been skipped. I want to play instruments. I even took guitar and piano lessons when I was younger. But I was lazy and never kept with it. Dumb idea. If you are young and you read this blog and your parents are giving you the gift of musical lessons, you stick the hell with them I tell you! Because if you don't, you will regret it later in life. I promise you.

My Trainer Rik

The reason that it took me this long to really seek out a real, live personal trainer is just that... That most of the 'trainers' out there are not real or live. They are wannabes who have worked out a few times or think they know everything about the gym when really, they are just looking to make some money off a multi-billion dollar a year industry by taking advantage of the 99% of the population trying to lose weight or better themselves.

It's more common than you'd think.

Well, I worked out last night for the first time at my new gym. And Rik was there, as he always is. I jumped onto one of these machines that are like an elliptical but they simulate running. Very awkward machines they are. I started out at level 5 but with a 3% incline. Next thing I know, trainer Rik is standing next to me, talking on the phone. He punches my level up to 20 (ack!) smiles at me, pats me on the back, and walks away.

It's already started. Let me tell you that the next 30 minutes were a hot, sweaty, breathless hell.

Now THAT is a real, live trainer. In the entire crowded gym, he singles out his newbie (me) and makes sure that I am pushing myself from the very start. I feel confident in my choices. It may have taken me 4 years to finally get a trainer. But dammit, I think I found the perfect one for me.

What, oh what, have I done?

Monday I drove around on my lunch break and ran some errands. I have been wanting to join a 'real' gym for a while now. I have nothing against our small town gym that is about the size of my living room. But it's crowded in there if there are more than 4 or 5 people. And to be truthful, I am getting a little bored with it. I know that if I stay there, I will stay on this ugly plateau and never move forward. I will miss working out with Red. It's something that we have always done together, because it's not like we get to spend that much time together as it is. But I feel that this is the only way I can better myself. So I am doing this for myself.

So back to Monday. When I was done running my errands, I drove past the gym that is like a block from where I work. I had been there last summer to attend the Humane Society's 'Who Let The Dogs Out' day. It's been on my mind ever since. But I never joined because, well, it was a little intimidating. I mean, compared to my little gym, this was a big monster full of beautiful, buff people. But I drove past it as I do everyday, and on a whim I whipped the truck around and I forced myself into the building. I was immediately greeted by Rik. Rik wasn't as intimidating as I thought he would be. He showed me around and answered every question I had. Before I knew it, I had joined the gym. For a year. I signed a contract for a year. Luckily my insurance has a nice fitness plan that pays for more than half of the monthly dues.

I went back today to meet with Rik. We went through my fitness goals and discussed the different options we had. We meet again Saturday for an evaluation and fitness/cardio/strength test. Then, Rik is going to start kicking my ass. I asked him who his meanest trainer was. He said that he's been known to be called a d bag in the past by his clients. I told him he was hired.

What on earth have I just signed myself up for? I mean, I have wanted to lose weight for years. And the more I try, the more I gain. But you know what? There is no backing out now. Rik is on my case now. And he is going to whip me back into shape in no time, I have no doubt.

Why am I terrified? Because his last words to me today were "Don't worry, Em. I havent' permanently injured anybody yet." Great. That's great news. Thanks for reassuring me, Rik. I see a lot of pain in my future... Ulgh.

Matchmaker

Yup, that's who I am going to be. A matchmaker. No no, not for a living or anything. But I have determined that Red's brother Dave needs a little help. A little nudge in the right direction. Alright, I might have to hit him with a bus to move him, but I'm going to do it!
Dave seems to think that he can be happy without a woman. And I know he doesn't want my help. In fact he might be a little pissed when he finds out I'm searching for him. But he doesn't have to know that I'm trying to set him up, right? Not until I plunk the perfect woman in front of him.
And I have found the perfect woman for Dave. She's been under my nose for almost a year.
My coworker "B". She and I have become good friends recently. B grew up with motorcycles, hunting, 4 wheeling, fishing... Country boy stuff. She enjoys hunting and will even join her brother and dad on their hunting trips. She tolerates dead animals on her walls. She has a son who is very country and loves hunting. And, she's single.
You all know me by now... You know that I don't get on well with other females. They bug me. So the fact that B has managed to befriend me, well, it says a lot about her. And another reason that I think she would be perfect for Dave. Did I mention that she is slim and gorgeous? That she has a good job and is very independant?
They are close in age, only about 5 years apart. I know that Dave wants someone who will give him his space and who will let him be himself. I know that he doesn't want any drama in his life. Well, I can tell you that B prefers to knix the drama as well, and she, too, doesn't want a guy who will be clingy or needy. She would enjoy the fact that Dave leaves for a week at a time for his hunting trips so that she could have her B time. They are perfect for each other. She doesnt have any pets. Which I think Dave would appreciate. Oh, and she cooks. And even if Dave didnt like her cooking, myself, Jo and Momma D can certainly hook her up with Dave's favored dishes, right ladies? Are you two going to help me hook up Dave or what? :o)
Hmmm... Now I just have to get them to meet.
~~To Be Continued~~