I like free things. A LOT. So when my most recent big "purchase" (a swim & fitness membership) comes with two free training sessions, who am I to say no? I sign up with a lovely young man who showed me how to turn on the treadmill on day one. This should be fun, right?
HA. HAHAHAHAHAH. I am currently considering sleeping in my recliner so I don't have to walk upstairs. We start out fine, he wants me a little faster on the treadmill than I am used to- I feel like I almost have to trot to keep up, but that 15 minute warmup was totally doable, especially after I made it clear that I DO NOT RUN. Unless chased by a bear- but then, really, I'd be backing away slowly. He gets my humor, this should be ok. Next up some sitting down, and standing up again. I can do that for one minute, especially as it was never specified how long I could sit during the minute. (I'm kidding, of course, but I did point out that the lack of concrete directions would provide me with loopholes that I would gloriously love to extort). Then some arm weight stuff- my right arm can do fifty pounds and my left was quivering at 15. Whoops. Clearly, I'm right handed.
Then he wanted me to throw a weighted ball at the ground. Repeatedly. Um, ok. Then I had to chuck it at him, repeatedly. He was all "Pretend you're really mad at me and hurl it at me!" Me: "I'm a pacifist, this just seems wrong!". I did it anyway. Then the devil machine- the elliptical- "Just do it until you burn 50 calories!" Me: "Or until I fall on my ass because it makes me dizzy and hurts my knees." He laughed. I promptly fell off, twice. Point made, elliptical is done for the day, but he really thinks it would be good cardio for me...
On to some easy to use weight machines- I have already explored those and had a pretty good clue how to use them- my goal is building upper body strength, because I kind of want to learn how to play tennis, and arms are pretty important for that. All was good until the chest press- oh good god that fucker would not move. I never realized how weak my boobs were. Trainer man is all "just push through it, grunt away" while I responded with "I DON'T GRUNT!" I got it up and did the reps. Last machine was this calf press thing. He set the weight at 30. I laughed at him. I have calves of steel. It's really my only muscle that is on point- all those calf raises to soothe plantar fasciitis have done their job! He set it at 50 and dared me to do 20 reps. Snore. Cake walk. Eventually we're at 130 and it's still easy. By the time we settle on a good weight, 170, I've already done numerous reps at lower weights and still manage to bang out 30 good reps. I wish I had a camera for his face- it was priceless.
I'm still cool and collected (yet sweating like a piggie wearing wool in 90 degree heat) so he wants to mix it up- and suggests the rowing machine.
Oh honey, I love that. And I'm good at it. This kid is good- he's gotten to know me, appreciates my sarcastic humor and dry wit, and is even making notes on how to make good spanakopita (I guess his girlfriend is Greek)? He's figured out that I am "not competitive" and yet probably the most stubborn, competitive woman of all time. Which is probably the truth if I am forced to admit it.
So he challenges me. If I get to 1500 meters before he does, he won't make me do the elliptical next session (I get one more freebie) so game on. I will do pretty much anything to avoid that stupid ass machine. Took me six minutes. He was only at 1100. Ha. No more elliptical for me!
And I can barely move he kicked my ass so badly- can't wait until our next session.
UPDATE: Still hurting- still managed to do some slow laps today and am now slathered with Tiger Balm.
Thursday, July 20, 2017
Wednesday, July 19, 2017
The Most Spectacular Failure of a Restaurant EVER...
These past few days the kids and I have been on Cape Cod visiting Auntie. The kids have finally learned the difference between being IN Cape May and being ON Cape Cod. Took a few years! Monday we decided to head to Provincetown, where Auntie had vacationed as a child and is one of our favorite places to go. M went as a baby, but not since. Auntie and I frequent it, and have some favorites. We are usually there sans kids, and thoroughly enjoy Pepe's Wharf (get the crab and artichoke dip!) and The Mews (oh hello Lobster and Scallops!). However, with kids, it's a different story! Even though I've been really on the ball with exercise and food- losing ten pounds since my return from vacation number one- we HAD to have lunch at Canteen- they make the absolute best lobster roll I have EVER HAD. Butter, chives, in a brioche roll with a side of vinegary herby slaw- add some crispy brussel sprouts with fish sauce and it's just heaven. We had serious restaurant karma- second in line when we arrived, plenty of tables. Once we sat down the line was out to the street! M was brave and went for pulled pork tacos- they had some heat but he really enjoyed them. J wanted pulled pork too, but then refused to eat anything. No worry there, the pork was enjoyed! They do have hot dogs, and grilled cheese as well if you are traveling with kids. Auntie likes the cod Banh Mi, and gets that every time!
After our whale watch, it was time for dinner. J was super hungry, having refused to eat his lunch, and my stomach was growling. We thought about the Lobster Pot, but even at 5:30 there was a wait. Across the street is the Governor Bradford (which I can't even attach a link to as they don't have a website, yet have existed in P-Town for decades)- hmmm, kids meals ranged from three dollars to five dollars, the wine list was good, and we were sold. Seated right away, and our lovely waitress Alisha (unsure on spelling of course) came over. Since we were seated before 6 pm and it was a Monday, we could do the "Happy Hour" deal- buy one, get one half off on all entrees. Well, I like saving money, and so does Auntie. We ordered the boys their mac and cheese and hot dog kids meals (which come with a drink and a Hoodsie cup), and took a few minutes to decide. With a discount, we went for it- I ordered the pan seared one and a quarter pound lobster (pan seared- garlic and butter, as opposed to steamed) and Auntie ordered the shrimp, scallop and crab cakes topped with lobster. This was 6:07 pm. We received our drinks (wine for me, a margarita for Auntie) in record time, and the boys' meals were out by 6:15. The waitress was great with the kids, which I appreciated as they had definitely been quite cranky. We then overheard another waiter tell his table the kitchen was running slow, and to perhaps consider an appetizer. Hmmm.
Then we observed a couple leave their table and tell the hostess they were leaving as it had been 45 minutes. It wasn't super clear what that referred to- getting orders taken? Their meal? Sometimes tables slip through the cracks- we had already ordered and another waiter came to take our orders. Hmmmm. Communication clearly a weak point. However, boys were happy.
Then it was 6:45. When the waitress brought the boys their sundaes, she apologized again for the wait and said that a chef had called out, would we like soup or a salad on the house? She also refreshed my wine. We both got lobster bisque, and to say it was not worth discussing might be higher praise than it deserved. When the soup was delivered, we were told our drinks were on the house, as there was an issue in the kitchen. Ok then. Then it's 7 pm. The manager stops over to apologize and says our meals will be out momentarily. 7:10 pm. The bartender is rolling his eyes at us, and pours more wine into a plastic tumbler for the table. Auntie and I share. 7:15, the manager again- he's called the owner to complain about the infighting in the kitchen- I wanted a 1.25 pound lobster but they are out- so he says give her a 1.5 pound lobster. There is apparently super drama in the kitchen over that. Lots of screaming about tickets. NO TICKET NO FOOD. Umm, we ordered. I don't write the damn tickets. Never mind we have a clear view into the kitchen and we can see all the arguing. Manager informs us meal is totally on the house. 7:24, still no food.
Kids are engrossed in their tablets and Auntie and I at this point are playing a waiting game- we can grab pizza somewhere else, how long do we wait? Our morbid curiosity as to how it will play out has taken hold. Tables all around us have been in and out (including the table who was warned at the slow kitchen!) We decide 7:30 is our end game. When I go to use the restroom the manager thanked me for my patience- which I responded with a "too bad I write a blog that's pretty much only about food".
Return to table. It's 7:29 pm. There is no sign of food. All of a sudden, another glass of wine is plunked down before me. With the bottle. I look at the manager and say "We cannot possibly drink this, we haven't even gotten our food!". His response was brilliant- "well, the bottle is a screw top so you can take it with you". SOLD. Just as we were ready to leave at 7:38- the food arrived.
Sadly to say, it was delicious. And I will never go back.
P.S. Our restaurant karma returned- when we went to the Portuguese bakery for the fried dough it was JUST coming out the frier- and the most delicious thing I have had in a long time- M tried a bite and said "Mom, this just changed my life." I hear you, buddy.
After our whale watch, it was time for dinner. J was super hungry, having refused to eat his lunch, and my stomach was growling. We thought about the Lobster Pot, but even at 5:30 there was a wait. Across the street is the Governor Bradford (which I can't even attach a link to as they don't have a website, yet have existed in P-Town for decades)- hmmm, kids meals ranged from three dollars to five dollars, the wine list was good, and we were sold. Seated right away, and our lovely waitress Alisha (unsure on spelling of course) came over. Since we were seated before 6 pm and it was a Monday, we could do the "Happy Hour" deal- buy one, get one half off on all entrees. Well, I like saving money, and so does Auntie. We ordered the boys their mac and cheese and hot dog kids meals (which come with a drink and a Hoodsie cup), and took a few minutes to decide. With a discount, we went for it- I ordered the pan seared one and a quarter pound lobster (pan seared- garlic and butter, as opposed to steamed) and Auntie ordered the shrimp, scallop and crab cakes topped with lobster. This was 6:07 pm. We received our drinks (wine for me, a margarita for Auntie) in record time, and the boys' meals were out by 6:15. The waitress was great with the kids, which I appreciated as they had definitely been quite cranky. We then overheard another waiter tell his table the kitchen was running slow, and to perhaps consider an appetizer. Hmmm.
Then we observed a couple leave their table and tell the hostess they were leaving as it had been 45 minutes. It wasn't super clear what that referred to- getting orders taken? Their meal? Sometimes tables slip through the cracks- we had already ordered and another waiter came to take our orders. Hmmmm. Communication clearly a weak point. However, boys were happy.
Then it was 6:45. When the waitress brought the boys their sundaes, she apologized again for the wait and said that a chef had called out, would we like soup or a salad on the house? She also refreshed my wine. We both got lobster bisque, and to say it was not worth discussing might be higher praise than it deserved. When the soup was delivered, we were told our drinks were on the house, as there was an issue in the kitchen. Ok then. Then it's 7 pm. The manager stops over to apologize and says our meals will be out momentarily. 7:10 pm. The bartender is rolling his eyes at us, and pours more wine into a plastic tumbler for the table. Auntie and I share. 7:15, the manager again- he's called the owner to complain about the infighting in the kitchen- I wanted a 1.25 pound lobster but they are out- so he says give her a 1.5 pound lobster. There is apparently super drama in the kitchen over that. Lots of screaming about tickets. NO TICKET NO FOOD. Umm, we ordered. I don't write the damn tickets. Never mind we have a clear view into the kitchen and we can see all the arguing. Manager informs us meal is totally on the house. 7:24, still no food.
Kids are engrossed in their tablets and Auntie and I at this point are playing a waiting game- we can grab pizza somewhere else, how long do we wait? Our morbid curiosity as to how it will play out has taken hold. Tables all around us have been in and out (including the table who was warned at the slow kitchen!) We decide 7:30 is our end game. When I go to use the restroom the manager thanked me for my patience- which I responded with a "too bad I write a blog that's pretty much only about food".
Return to table. It's 7:29 pm. There is no sign of food. All of a sudden, another glass of wine is plunked down before me. With the bottle. I look at the manager and say "We cannot possibly drink this, we haven't even gotten our food!". His response was brilliant- "well, the bottle is a screw top so you can take it with you". SOLD. Just as we were ready to leave at 7:38- the food arrived.
Sadly to say, it was delicious. And I will never go back.
P.S. Our restaurant karma returned- when we went to the Portuguese bakery for the fried dough it was JUST coming out the frier- and the most delicious thing I have had in a long time- M tried a bite and said "Mom, this just changed my life." I hear you, buddy.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Hunh. So that's where my muscles are...
I hurt. Big time. It's been six days since I've joined the club, and I have worked out five of the six days- Thursday the weather was grody and my legs were super sore from Wednesday. I figure taking a day or two off a week is not the end of the world. The scary part of the weather being gross is that I have had to utilize the "turf" portion of my membership. You know, that big scary room where there is a possibility for grunting and looking like an idiot- the fitness room. I have set my expectations extremely low- my goal is to not fall down. Hence my new workout shirt- "I have no idea what the heck I am doing, but nevertheless I will persist." Fit in nicely between the guy wearing the Bad Hombre shirt and the lady with the "Don't Blame Me I Voted for Hillary" shirt on the treadmills to either side of me. I have only had one mortifying gym moment (MGM) when I was doing leg curls (the kid where you are basically kicking your own ass and on your stomach) and I hit the lever which adjusted the leg piece making any angle for getting out impossible. Thankfully, someone I recognized from water aerobics was nearby and re-adjusted, so I could extricate. And it's worth it, because the shampoo and conditioner in the showers smells so good, and heck, it's not my hot water! Oh yeah, and there are no children trying to barge in...
That's really not too bad. Only one MGM!!!
I need more fun workout shirts- I got some great compression pant thingies, because they don't move around, which my thighs appreciate, but I like a lose cotton T. Thoughts thus far:
If Sarcasm Burned Calories, I Wouldn't Be Here
This Workout Powered by the Free Babysitting
Remember the Tortoise and the Hare? Yeah, I'm the Tortoise
But now? Now I hurt. Today I did a full surf and turf- gym first, then water aerobics. Go figure I did arms on the machines- and our instructor at the pool was apparently an arm guru. Can't not do it full out even though my muscles were on fire, so now. Well, I have learned all about where my muscles live. And all of their homes are pissed off at me.
Added bonus? Lifting sushi to my mouth was too painful to maintain, so I had a light dinner. Maybe that's why they always pair diet and exercise together??? If you can't physically lift the french fry, you certainly can't eat it. Even if your dinner companion dares you to lick the Yama sauce off the plate. That much bending over was out of the question.
Not that I would have done it. And yes, I hear you all laughing and doubting me. Seriously, I would not have done it. REALLY!
That's really not too bad. Only one MGM!!!
I need more fun workout shirts- I got some great compression pant thingies, because they don't move around, which my thighs appreciate, but I like a lose cotton T. Thoughts thus far:
If Sarcasm Burned Calories, I Wouldn't Be Here
This Workout Powered by the Free Babysitting
Remember the Tortoise and the Hare? Yeah, I'm the Tortoise
But now? Now I hurt. Today I did a full surf and turf- gym first, then water aerobics. Go figure I did arms on the machines- and our instructor at the pool was apparently an arm guru. Can't not do it full out even though my muscles were on fire, so now. Well, I have learned all about where my muscles live. And all of their homes are pissed off at me.
Added bonus? Lifting sushi to my mouth was too painful to maintain, so I had a light dinner. Maybe that's why they always pair diet and exercise together??? If you can't physically lift the french fry, you certainly can't eat it. Even if your dinner companion dares you to lick the Yama sauce off the plate. That much bending over was out of the question.
Not that I would have done it. And yes, I hear you all laughing and doubting me. Seriously, I would not have done it. REALLY!
Wednesday, July 12, 2017
Doctors are Pretty Amusing Sometimes...
So I had my yearly physical today- yesterday morning I went for my fasting labs- had to take the boys, as no on wants to babysit at 7:30 am. Hell, I don't blame them! It was just labs- so away we went.
First of all, we parked and got out of the car and it started to pour- so we are soaking wet piling into the elevator to go up the office. Commence fighting over who presses the elevator buttons- mommy wins because I am getting a needle in my arm. M and J were coaching me on how to handle this atrocity (which doesn't bother me at all). M's advice was that I kick the needle person in the knee because they were hurting me. J was practical- "Just do what Lali does and think about ice cream until it's all done." Frankly, I'd rather think about a charcuterie board, but same concept.
And then came the actual moment. I am chatting with Eric, my most favorite phlebotomist of all time- and don't even notice he's drawing blood, until I see two little jaws drop. They were OBSESSED with it. J wanted to lecture Eric on how to be careful not the let the blood oxygenate because then I would get false results (this has happened to him before- no, he wasn't having a heart attack at 3 months old- bad phlebotomist). Then again, maybe I'm a crap mom for actually discussing medicine with my little...M was really into keeping track of the tubes and wanted to make sure all the labels matched so I had the right results. Needless to say, it was harder to drag them out of the office than it was to get them in.
Fast forward to my actual appointment. Lovely Megan does my vitals and what not and leaves me to wait for the doc. OBVIOUSLY I am grabbing my file and reviewing my results. Hello, I am pretty capable when it comes to this stuff. Everything looks great- MCV is much lower than last year and in a happy range (I hate it when my red blood cells are all fat and stuff- stupid carbs)! Nothing in the abnormal range at ALL. I was actually miffed for a moment. I'm used to having some wacko number misbehaving. Last year it was the MCV, year before, creatinine. But wait, where is my A1C???? Being kind of a pain in the ass I left the room and went out into the office to ask. They don't even bother to ask me to put on a johnny anymore because I always refuse, so no worries, fully covered.
"WHERE IS MY A1C? I know you ordered one because I had gestational diabetes twice! It's NOT HERE!". Ensue confusion and scrambling and calling the lab.
Bottom line, lab forgot to print it. A1C is awesome. Once they figured all that out, went back into the exam room. My doc looks at me and said, "well, I guess I don't need to review your labs with you!". Nope. Listens to my lungs, checks my pulse, and woo, good to go. And then we spend twenty minutes gabbing about the best beaches in the US.
I love my doctor. I think anyone else would think I was bat shit crazy.
First of all, we parked and got out of the car and it started to pour- so we are soaking wet piling into the elevator to go up the office. Commence fighting over who presses the elevator buttons- mommy wins because I am getting a needle in my arm. M and J were coaching me on how to handle this atrocity (which doesn't bother me at all). M's advice was that I kick the needle person in the knee because they were hurting me. J was practical- "Just do what Lali does and think about ice cream until it's all done." Frankly, I'd rather think about a charcuterie board, but same concept.
And then came the actual moment. I am chatting with Eric, my most favorite phlebotomist of all time- and don't even notice he's drawing blood, until I see two little jaws drop. They were OBSESSED with it. J wanted to lecture Eric on how to be careful not the let the blood oxygenate because then I would get false results (this has happened to him before- no, he wasn't having a heart attack at 3 months old- bad phlebotomist). Then again, maybe I'm a crap mom for actually discussing medicine with my little...M was really into keeping track of the tubes and wanted to make sure all the labels matched so I had the right results. Needless to say, it was harder to drag them out of the office than it was to get them in.
Fast forward to my actual appointment. Lovely Megan does my vitals and what not and leaves me to wait for the doc. OBVIOUSLY I am grabbing my file and reviewing my results. Hello, I am pretty capable when it comes to this stuff. Everything looks great- MCV is much lower than last year and in a happy range (I hate it when my red blood cells are all fat and stuff- stupid carbs)! Nothing in the abnormal range at ALL. I was actually miffed for a moment. I'm used to having some wacko number misbehaving. Last year it was the MCV, year before, creatinine. But wait, where is my A1C???? Being kind of a pain in the ass I left the room and went out into the office to ask. They don't even bother to ask me to put on a johnny anymore because I always refuse, so no worries, fully covered.
"WHERE IS MY A1C? I know you ordered one because I had gestational diabetes twice! It's NOT HERE!". Ensue confusion and scrambling and calling the lab.
Bottom line, lab forgot to print it. A1C is awesome. Once they figured all that out, went back into the exam room. My doc looks at me and said, "well, I guess I don't need to review your labs with you!". Nope. Listens to my lungs, checks my pulse, and woo, good to go. And then we spend twenty minutes gabbing about the best beaches in the US.
I love my doctor. I think anyone else would think I was bat shit crazy.
Tuesday, July 11, 2017
On a Mission...still...
I am kind of at the frustrated stage- I have 14 months to lose some serious weight and become STRONG (physically- emotionally I am a beast). Found an awesome place where we have a "Surf & Turf" membership- pool and fitness, year round. The boys are in hog heaven- it reminds them of their beloved Beach Club, sans beach of course. I love the water fitness classes.
Today it rained. My kids still went to the kids' club on site (they wake up begging for it) and I was going to sit in my car and read for two and a half hours. And then I saw the people walking into the gym. Self talk ensued. This is dumb. I am sitting in my car. I am am wearing workout appropriate clothes that no one will laugh at. For bonus points, I am even wearing my NYSA coach shirt. SEE! I do SPORTS! I have sneakers. I might as well go in. So I did. And realized I didn't even know how to find the fitness center from the main entrance, or the locker room.
Old me would have fled. New me asked the ladies at the front desk what the heck I should do if I wanted to exercise. Well drat, she found a trainer and said "have a great workout!". Damn all these nice positive people.
They even have a sign on the wall that says "even experts were beginners once". Freaking positive reinforcement. And then the trainer showed me the treadmill. I could watch all the cable channels! And be on FB! And Pinterest! And read the newspaper! I could even select a view for my walking. I chose New Zealand beach walk, if anyone cares. An hour later, I wasn't dead. I did have a blister, as my feet don't like shoes with heels. Then this super lovely lady next to me said "Do you want to try the weight machines with me? I know you are new I can show you how". CRAP. Niceness (and an affinity for her adorable sneakers) won out over super anxiety at looking like a fool. Obviously I said yes. Forty minutes later I had managed to not fall off any machines, and found the spray and paper towels to wipe my germs off of them.
Bottom line, I didn't die. I do have a blister, and just spent way too much money on socks that will theoretically prevent that, as my new sneakers were fit to my feet by people who "know". Who knew there were socks that are specialized for exercise? That need to be line dried like my super boring and functional bras?? Well, now I know. And to add to it- I just ordered a high neck, no skirt bathing suit- I am finding doing laps with a skirt and cute tankini top is so freaking annoying. So watch out world, the thighs are coming out.
And I will go back tomorrow. At least for more water pilates- I need to wait for my new socks before I put on sneaks again...
Today it rained. My kids still went to the kids' club on site (they wake up begging for it) and I was going to sit in my car and read for two and a half hours. And then I saw the people walking into the gym. Self talk ensued. This is dumb. I am sitting in my car. I am am wearing workout appropriate clothes that no one will laugh at. For bonus points, I am even wearing my NYSA coach shirt. SEE! I do SPORTS! I have sneakers. I might as well go in. So I did. And realized I didn't even know how to find the fitness center from the main entrance, or the locker room.
Old me would have fled. New me asked the ladies at the front desk what the heck I should do if I wanted to exercise. Well drat, she found a trainer and said "have a great workout!". Damn all these nice positive people.
They even have a sign on the wall that says "even experts were beginners once". Freaking positive reinforcement. And then the trainer showed me the treadmill. I could watch all the cable channels! And be on FB! And Pinterest! And read the newspaper! I could even select a view for my walking. I chose New Zealand beach walk, if anyone cares. An hour later, I wasn't dead. I did have a blister, as my feet don't like shoes with heels. Then this super lovely lady next to me said "Do you want to try the weight machines with me? I know you are new I can show you how". CRAP. Niceness (and an affinity for her adorable sneakers) won out over super anxiety at looking like a fool. Obviously I said yes. Forty minutes later I had managed to not fall off any machines, and found the spray and paper towels to wipe my germs off of them.
Bottom line, I didn't die. I do have a blister, and just spent way too much money on socks that will theoretically prevent that, as my new sneakers were fit to my feet by people who "know". Who knew there were socks that are specialized for exercise? That need to be line dried like my super boring and functional bras?? Well, now I know. And to add to it- I just ordered a high neck, no skirt bathing suit- I am finding doing laps with a skirt and cute tankini top is so freaking annoying. So watch out world, the thighs are coming out.
And I will go back tomorrow. At least for more water pilates- I need to wait for my new socks before I put on sneaks again...
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