Okay - I know there's a recession and it's completely extravagant...but I totally go to a trainer. Every week. Once. When I'm home. (Okay - maybe it's not as extravagant as I thought).
And this trainer is a freakin' drill sergeant. Obviously, if you have to pay someone to make you workout, you kind of need tough - and she is tough. I had one session where I tried to fool the scales on my monthly weigh-in by not eating breakfast or lunch beforehand....passed out. The next workout was interrupted by my vomiting the turkey sandwich I ate a little too close to the workout's start. Notice I said interrupted and not canceled - I told you...she's tough. I have been known to shout "NO MEANS NO" in the middle of a [girls's] push-up, but there's never a reprieve with Louis Gossett Jr.
Each workout starts with our own unique ritual - she asks me how I did on food this week...I lie...she makes me do squats til I cry. I asked her what I could do about being a little "broad in the beam" [as my mother so affectionately (?) put it]. Her answer: "Eat less." Thank yoooooouuuu. But then she & I probably have different expectations. I am happy with merely changing the trajectory of my weight gain while she probably expects people to actually lose weight.
I didn't bother telling her about the whoppers and cheeto's episode.
Tuesday, September 29, 2009
Friday, September 25, 2009
But Where is the Rest of the Room?
From Managers Meetings to NYC. That's right, I came to NYC to join Rita for a few days while she worked in this market. Ummmm, I know hotel rooms in NYC are always smaller than the "real America", but the hotel we are staying in is a little ridiculous:
- It makes the tent from camping look positively spacious
- I cannot escape the sensation that I am staying in an RV. Seriously, everything in the room is three-quarters size. And judging by the noise outside, we ARE in the middle of traffic...maybe it IS an RV.
- I figured out why the bed doesn't have a footboard: 1) it won't fit and 2) so my feet won't touch it when they. Hang. Off. The. End. of my not-quite-full-sized bed.
- The cleaning lady doesn't even have to enter the room to clean it.
- Rita was right...you really can sit on the toilet and work on the computer balanced across the sink basin.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Managers' Meeting
Sorry to miss posts so far this week. I had organized a meeting at one of our sites for all my managers. A two day workshop/meeting for 10 people from around the country.
Now...you're a reader of this blog...just how "organized" do you think this meeting that I hosted was?
- Next time I tell people to control costs...I should make sure SOMEONE rents a car.
- ummmm, how do I tell the President of the Company I forgot to put him on the agenda?
- So WHAT if everyone else's idea of a fancy company dinner doesn't include a sports bar and Monday Night football?!
- The meeting refreshments are heavily weighted toward Diet Cokes and bar-b-que potato chips. [Who knew water was so popular?]
- I guess I forgot the projector was hooked to my laptop when I toggled between my teammember's presentation and my blog. [I think my team all knows me a little better now]
Should I consdier my team meeting a failure if "every man for himself" emerges as the team motto?
Friday, September 18, 2009
350Z
I haven't really had time to blog for today because I am trying to sell my car.
The main reason I am selling it is 1) it's loud [apparently I didn't read the fine print about sports cars] and 2) while I CAN put a bike rack on it... it feels for all the world like my $2,000 bike is velcro'd to the car with little more than a prayer to keep it affixed. The only bike rack that works is the one that you rest on the trunk of the car and its "arms" balance between the trunk and the hatch. It reminds me of that balancing wine bottle holder where an arc somehow supports the weight of the entire bottle. Not really the most reassuring image as I'm barreling down I-5, trying to keep up with friends who have real bike racks. Every single time I put that bike rack on, I spend the entire drive thinking about the blog I'm going to write when the aerodynamics of a California freeway conspire against me to achieve 10-speed lift off [I imagine it will float under the wheel of an oncoming RV and then my bike will become little more than an accessory for Flat Stanley.]
But hey...it's a seven year old car with 43,000 miles on it - pretty good. [And if the airport in Nashville had been 10 miles closer, I probably wouldn't have half that many miles.]
But I think the tires may need a little maintenance. My friend is helping me sell the car. It was all he could do to contain his shock at the noise the tires are making. “When was the last time you balanced these?” Maeve: “Balanced them on what?”
When it's clean and the tires don’t sound like a helicopter outta an episode of M*A*S*H any more, I may decide I like the car.
At least until the bike flies off.
The main reason I am selling it is 1) it's loud [apparently I didn't read the fine print about sports cars] and 2) while I CAN put a bike rack on it... it feels for all the world like my $2,000 bike is velcro'd to the car with little more than a prayer to keep it affixed. The only bike rack that works is the one that you rest on the trunk of the car and its "arms" balance between the trunk and the hatch. It reminds me of that balancing wine bottle holder where an arc somehow supports the weight of the entire bottle. Not really the most reassuring image as I'm barreling down I-5, trying to keep up with friends who have real bike racks. Every single time I put that bike rack on, I spend the entire drive thinking about the blog I'm going to write when the aerodynamics of a California freeway conspire against me to achieve 10-speed lift off [I imagine it will float under the wheel of an oncoming RV and then my bike will become little more than an accessory for Flat Stanley.]
But hey...it's a seven year old car with 43,000 miles on it - pretty good. [And if the airport in Nashville had been 10 miles closer, I probably wouldn't have half that many miles.]
But I think the tires may need a little maintenance. My friend is helping me sell the car. It was all he could do to contain his shock at the noise the tires are making. “When was the last time you balanced these?” Maeve: “Balanced them on what?”
When it's clean and the tires don’t sound like a helicopter outta an episode of M*A*S*H any more, I may decide I like the car.
At least until the bike flies off.
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Are you ready for some...
....FOOTBALL?!
As I have previously mentioned...football season is just not that significant out here in sunny California. I am trying to get everyone geared up for the Titans Super Bowl run, but I detect a serious lack of interest. Here are some of the signs that these Californians are just not that into football:
As I have previously mentioned...football season is just not that significant out here in sunny California. I am trying to get everyone geared up for the Titans Super Bowl run, but I detect a serious lack of interest. Here are some of the signs that these Californians are just not that into football:
- Their plans for December 25th center on "family, travel and the birth of Christ" rather than the Titans/Chargers game being played that day
- The only readers of this blog who know LT is in a walking boot live in Nashville
- Their concerns about blackouts relate to electricity, not home games
- They think ESPN stands for Environment, Science, Philanthropy and Nature
- They didn't even know to trash talk me after the Titans [Barely! Barely, I say] lost their season opener.
- None of them want to meet at a bar at 9:30 in the morning for kickoff.
- They completely miss the adorable charm of a few [4] Titans car magnets
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Groceries Schmoceries
Things really go to hell around here when Rita travels. I got home from my fight flight on Monday to discover el zilcho to eat in the house. I mean...I don't even think we have ingredients right now. Well...I take that back....someone obviously made a batch of pesto before traveling because we had about 13 containers of that, thank goodness. They're all sitting in the freezer right beside [what i'm guessing is] the watermelon-a-sicles (?) made by freezing leftover watermelon. [I'm all for not wasting...but who is going to eat those?] Throw in about 300 lemons [for some reason] and a cheese wheel of parmesan and you have the entire contents of our fridge/freezer. Rita (a/k/a MacGyver-in-the-kitchen) could probably make a 6 course meal outta that....but all I could make was a face. [This is exactly why people buy frozen dinners.]
And then...inexplicably...in the otherwise barren cupboards...there was a bag of Cheetos. Ummm...did someone break into our house and infect us with junk food? Oh wait a minute...I think I just ate the dog sitter's groceries. [I wonder where she put the rest of her stuff.]
Luckily, my mother had sent me a care package filled with chocolates. What is that you said, McSisters? You didn't get a care package from mom?? Hmmmm, wonder what that means? =)
Which, of course, led to a breakfast, lunch and dinner consisting of Whoppers and Cheetos. [Blog first, grocery shop second.]
And oh yeah...Diet Cokes.
[And THIS is how I play the pity card for dinner invites]
And then...inexplicably...in the otherwise barren cupboards...there was a bag of Cheetos. Ummm...did someone break into our house and infect us with junk food? Oh wait a minute...I think I just ate the dog sitter's groceries. [I wonder where she put the rest of her stuff.]
Luckily, my mother had sent me a care package filled with chocolates. What is that you said, McSisters? You didn't get a care package from mom?? Hmmmm, wonder what that means? =)
Which, of course, led to a breakfast, lunch and dinner consisting of Whoppers and Cheetos. [Blog first, grocery shop second.]
And oh yeah...Diet Cokes.
[And THIS is how I play the pity card for dinner invites]
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
Fight or Flight
My behavior really regresses with air travel. I had a less-than-enjoyable flight on Northwest [yeah, I didn't know they were still in business either] from Ft. Wayne Indiana to San Diego last night. First, we spent 25 minutes on the unseasonably warm tarmac in Ft. Wayne before the pilot finally told us that the air conditioning on the Cessna only works in the air? Oh puh-leaze. Air conditioning that runs on cumulus clouds [and unicorn horns?].
After our delayed flight finally arrived in Detroit...I knew my 45 minute connection was in jeopardy when the flight attendant flung open the doors of our plane saying "Watch out Tony...we have runners". Which seemed absolutely lost on Tippy the Turtle in front of me who seemed intent to meander his way through his connection.
After pushing Mr. Turtle [and about 23 others] out of the way, I finally reached gate Z86 and breathlessly asked the two waitresses at the gate if the flight had left. To which they responded..."Hey - we're in the middle of something important here."
Oh. No. You. Did-ent. And while I did not say...a) "I am going to take this $&#^@ ball and cram it down your $^#@) throat"; b) "You Lie!" or c) one single thing about Beyonce's video, I may have said..."Obviously not customer service" and/or "perhaps you could put away your crossword puzzle and help me get home." [ummmm.....BTW...I'm still waiting on my bags from that flight.]
And then...as I made my way to the back of this whacked out flight....I. Couldn't. Help. But. Notice.....the elderly Costanza-looking fliers in their matching fluorescent yellow t-shirt/ballcap ensembles obtained from the tea party-sponsored taxpayer march in D.C. this weekend. Oh PLEASE let me sit next to one of them....I'd have blogs for a year.
No dice. But not to worry....me and my inner Serena Williams caught up with one of them in the bathroom line.
After our delayed flight finally arrived in Detroit...I knew my 45 minute connection was in jeopardy when the flight attendant flung open the doors of our plane saying "Watch out Tony...we have runners". Which seemed absolutely lost on Tippy the Turtle in front of me who seemed intent to meander his way through his connection.
After pushing Mr. Turtle [and about 23 others] out of the way, I finally reached gate Z86 and breathlessly asked the two waitresses at the gate if the flight had left. To which they responded..."Hey - we're in the middle of something important here."
Oh. No. You. Did-ent. And while I did not say...a) "I am going to take this $&#^@ ball and cram it down your $^#@) throat"; b) "You Lie!" or c) one single thing about Beyonce's video, I may have said..."Obviously not customer service" and/or "perhaps you could put away your crossword puzzle and help me get home." [ummmm.....BTW...I'm still waiting on my bags from that flight.]
And then...as I made my way to the back of this whacked out flight....I. Couldn't. Help. But. Notice.....the elderly Costanza-looking fliers in their matching fluorescent yellow t-shirt/ballcap ensembles obtained from the tea party-sponsored taxpayer march in D.C. this weekend. Oh PLEASE let me sit next to one of them....I'd have blogs for a year.
No dice. But not to worry....me and my inner Serena Williams caught up with one of them in the bathroom line.
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