Failure – The 30 for 30 Challenge…and other things


Bear

A bit of an old school style blog post, so here goes.

I’ve failed the 30 for 30 Challenge.  I actually made it a whole 6 days, but I forgot to take pictures.

What happened?  Well, the Blizzaster and the following Colder-Than-Hell temperatures did a number on my planning.  THEN a whole bunch of unexpected life type stuff happened resulting in events I wasn’t expecting and I also haven’t done laundry in any meaningful way AND we just found  a new apartment which doesn’t require a specific outfit, but did require my attention and time.  So I failed.

Am I just not a Remixer?  I don’t know.  I’d like to try again. So I will when Spring or Summer 30 for 30’s come around, I suppose.

Moving on, I have to tell you I had sort of planned on February being a “month of rest”.  The plan was more theoretical and as such, has also failed miserably.  I am going to Ohio this weekend to celebrate my birthday and hopefully sleep.  I have to leave town to sleep.  But I won’t sleep.  Because I will be wasting time that I could be spending with my family.  As such, I have designated an official Hibernation Weekend.  I came across the idea of the Hibernation Weekend years ago through one of my favorite blogs, Brocante Home.  I have penciled in Hibernation Weekends ever since and that has probably been a solid three years.  I have yet to accomplish one.

Meanwhile, on Monday I turn 30.  I had always sort of imagined my 30th birthday to be a bit of a grand affair.  It won’t be.  I will be traveling most of Sunday, and Monday I will probably poodle around in slippers or something.  Of course not grand doesn’t mean not good.  In fact, looking back over what I’ve written thus far, perhaps Not Grand will be Relaxing.  And that IS Grand.  Oh the irony.

Bear

So, my youth is officially over.  Thank God.  I’m an old soul and old souls have awkward puberties that seem to resonate for years afterward.

I’ve got big goals for the upcoming years.  I’m quietly ambitious.  That sounds like an oxymoron.  Maybe it is, but it’s true nonetheless.  The first thing I am going to do is become (mostly) vegetarian again.  I was a vegetarian from 1997-around 2001.  I stopped for various reasons (mostly anchored in laziness), but the guilt has never left me.  I just love animals (and the environment…and ethics…and what I know is right) too much to support the evils of factory farming and cruelty.  So coming up I will return to what was always the right thing to do.  (Both my Father and my Husband probably just sighed very audibly.  Don’t worry, my Men.  Hypocritical as it may be, the looks on your faces and the gratitude for my pecan fried chicken is enough to warrant making it for you a couple times a year.  We just have to at the very least buy the chicken from a non-cruel enterprise.  And my Mac and Cheese doesn’t have meat in it.   I’ll just switch to a sustainable cheese source.  Like this one, my little sis’s summer employer last year, and rock solid Paulding County, Ohio born and bred.  Try their stuff, it is wonderful!)  As before, I promise not to be insufferable.  I just can’t bear ignoring some things that I’ve been ignoring for…dear God…a decade.  Just too cruel.  It was never difficult for me to be a vegetarian, really.  Honestly, when I stopped eating meat when I was 16, it was just about the easiest thing I ever did.  The challenge now will be that I do not expect Will to join me in this.  So, there will probably be some nights where we eat two different things.  That said, he occasionally picks up a few hours at a vegan coffee shop, and loves the veggie burrito at Chipotle, so there is wiggle room.  Also we both hate kombucha.  This isn’t really relevant except that it is a food-related issue on which we have solidarity.  After drinking kombucha I experienced what I imagine it feels like to drink untreated water in Russia.

Happy Bear

So there’s what’s on my mind at the present moment.  Sort of.   Here’s to turning 30 and liking the idea of it!  I need to hurry up and finish this crap Steve Berry novel I’m reading so I can start out my next decade on a smarter note.

 

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I Seek the Grail


My rectus abdominus is not a morning person. That is to say it doesn’t like rude awakenings. But last night, at the gym, it called me a bitch. Just right there. Right out loud. And then it shuffled off in a bathrobe to make coffee.

Ultimately, that’s a good sign. You only make coffee when you know you’re going to be up for awhile, right? I’ve always sought out The Actor Body. The body of a true performing artist. And while granted, a performing artist does not have to be thin – Miss Dirty Martini is an example- I’m just not at my physical best at the moment. And the thing is, it’s 5 pounds that did it. I’m looking to lose more than that, but it was 5 pounds that went and pissed me off. I was being lazy this summer. Sigh. So yo ho ho and a bottle of Advil.

While I am seeking An Actor Body, as I reach the peak of a treadmill hill program I often wonder what ever happened to the Rubens? You know? That aesthetic was pretty flash in the pan, huh?

Anyhoo, by Actor Body, I mean like those super physical-looking actors. Actors who look like they probably take a ballet class. Actors who have headshots with like, black tank tops, and crazy messy buns on top of their head. You should know my headshot will NEVER look like this. EVER. I would not take a photo for mass distribution in a black tank top, or a messy bun. I just want it to be an option. An option I can dispose of quickly. Basically I want to be able to lift my arms up over my head without either being embarassed, or wearing a leotard. No matter how etched my abs may be, however, I will continue to wear leotards. Because I love them. Not because I am trying to cover up my stomach. I don’t want to be able to do this:

but just for a second, it would be okay if you thought that maybe I’d be up to giving it a whirl.

But then again, I fell off a stability ball.

I Thought I Needed Stability


David Mamet, in his book True and False, says that actors are obligated to having a supple, lithe body, able to perform any task. With that in mind, a few months ago, I purchased a stability ball. Just inflating the thing was comical enough, but last night I decided to use it.

In my defense, let me assure you that I am not unfamiliar with exercise, in general. I use cardio machines quite a bit. I jog ever so occasionally. I like to dance. I even own free weights. And in the past, I have used a stability ball, or shall I say “stability” ball, for there was nothing stable about yesterday evening.

As I perched precariously atop the pearly plastic (how’s THAT for alliteration?), a childhood memory occurred to me. That of Goofy, clad in a baggy wrestling onesie, attempting to use gym facilities.

In the pictures ripped from Oxygen magazine, the model was gracefully contorting herself into all sorts of stability-ball enabled positions. I daresay they looked fun, even. On this particular excercize, the “V-Pike”,Stability ball 1 in small letters at the bottom of the page it suggested, “Beginners should attempt to make smaller v-shapes.” It said nothing about off-center “w” shapes, but that’s what I was making. To even get into the prep-position for the v-pike, you are instructed to lay on your stomach on the ball (a position that looks very similar to my Dad’s famous “fart-stuck” position) and then gently roll yourself forward on the ball until you are in push-up position, with your shins resting on the ball. Unfortunately, I think my brakes are out, because I just kept rollin’ along until I shouted “Whooooaaaaaahhhh!” and roll onto my face in a pile of giggles and onlooking cats. Will, who was sitting on the couch watching this fiasco, handed me something pertinent to an earlier conversation we were having and said, “Can you take a look at this before you continue making a fool out of yourself?”

I didn’t realize “No Pain, No Gain” meant emotional trauma.

But that was just the V-pike. I then moved onto “Waist Whittler” which ended in a pile of limbs and swearing. This morning, as I look at my workout log, I see that in a fit of rage I had simply crossed “The Russian Rotation” right off the list. The “Reach and Squeeze” was okay. First of all, it sounds ever so slightly comically sexual. Secondly, and perhaps apropos of that, you spend the whole time on your back.
stability ball 2
Luckily for me, on this particular training schedule, tonight is solely cardio. That’s good because it will likely take me a full 48 hours to regain my self-respect.