Jamie Danford

Dear world,
If we get through this week before end of quarter exams coupled with back to back softball and musical practice and make it to Spring Break in eleven days, I will sing your praises while gargling the biggest margarita in town.
The end.

No, seriously I AM still a blogger...

I know you're probably about to write me off as yet another blogger who's lost her cyber mojo aren't you? 

PLEASE DON'T!!!

Honest... since Big Dave's been home from work (two weeks and counting thank you very much) I've just been kind of busy hanging with him.  Believe it or not, but we're not divorced yet, and in fact this overabundance of co-habitation has been kind of... well... yes I'm saying it... nice.

He's pretty immobile because he happens to be right handed, which happens to be the hand in the cast, so at the moment he's softly snoring on the couch next to me after having watched some sort of Tom & Jerry marathon on Cartoon Network.  (I think he's starting to get bored... yesterday he shaved off ALL of his facial hair... well, I mean not his eyebrows or anything, but definitely his mustache/beard/goatee... and his head is slick bald as well.) 

It's been a LOT of years since I've seen him naked-faced, and I keep wondering who this pink, clean-shaven person is... too weird!  And Miss Priss can't stop staring.  It's pretty hilarious.

And I guess that if I'm actually blogging about my husband's lack of facial fuzziness, it must mean that things are kind of slow around here.  No major action... nobody jumping into freezing swimming pools, nobody streaking through the woods, nothing exploding in the firepit.  Nope, just us, the dogs and some pretty healthy lookin' pea plants in the garden. 

I did, however, have an exciting morning at the gym today, which is rather nice because today started my fourth week of bodily torture at my own hands.  As I told you in my previous post, I'm not seeing a lot of weight loss, and things are definitely still in the gelatinous zone, but I think maybe just maybe I may be swinging in the right direction. 

See... like eight years ago Big Dave and I tried the gym gig, and in my general state of unfitness, I was mortally embarassed by my arch-nemesis, the elliptical machine. 

 

It's true.  At the young age of thirty, I mounted the mechanical beast and managed to 'stride' for approximately TWO minutes before succumbing to earth shattering charlie horses in both thighs. 

Fast forward back to my present attempt at the gym gig (shall we call it Jamie Meets the Gym... Take Two?)  After a few days of slagging my own body weight on the treadmill, I decided once again to climb aboard the good ship gut-pop, better known as that #@$&ing elliptical machine.  I swore to myself that I would suffer through ten minutes on the beast, NO MATTER WHAT.  My reasoning for this was that Weight Watchers gives you one activity point for ten minutes of excercise.  And lo and behold, I actually did it. 

I was a proud child.  (Even if the more fit folks were lasting half dozen times longer.)

So then a week later, I decided to do it again.  And I managed to last TWENTY minutes on it.  Oh hizzle to the yizzle!!  I rejoiced.  (Even if the more fit folks were lasting three times longer.)

But then I didn't do it at all last week, it seemed the two good elliptical machines were always taken when I got there.  Instead, I focused on running on the treadmill.  I did my leg extensions, seated leg presses, and lunges.   

And then this morning when I walked out of the locker room, the gentle steed stood gleaming in the morning flourescence.  It beckoned me, and I went to it.  The handles felt good in my hands, the foot pedals cupped my Sauconys.  Game on.

I lasted an hour.

A whole freakin' HOUR!!!!

Shut up.

Really?

And guess what, I was the more fit person for once.  I did it.  And I'm pretty sure I could do it again... tomorrow maybe (if I can feel my legs.)

So you could say that I'm feeling pretty dang FABULOUS right now.  I'm going to avoid all full-length mirrors for at least twenty four hours so I can continue to bask in the glow of my accomplishment.  This feels good. 

No.

It feels GREAT.

Have a delicious day my peeps... it's time for carpool.

;)

Ramblings...

Happy Thursday friends! 

I've got a bundle of snippets to sprinkle along our little cyber path, so forgive the randomness and flighty format, okay?

So are you watching American Idol?  Of course I am... every season I say 'nope, not this year' but then the auditions come around and I'm glued to my tv with a fat glass of cab in hand.  Likewise, I am TOTALLY jazzed about the new season of Survivor.  I wish I could say no, but I can't.  I'm addicted.  And this season looks like it's gonna be a doozie!  (Love me some Boston Rob.)

And then as if the two shows aren't enough, The Amazing Race starts Sunday... YAYyayyyYYYAYyaayy!!  I LOVE T.V. 

However, I'm also a fan of NO t.v and in my time away from the set, I'm muddling through The Girl Who Played With Fire... it's SOOO much better than the first book in the series, and so far I'd recommend it for sure.

The Time Traveler's Wife is still playing on c.d. in my car, and it had me in tears tonight as I drove down the Southwest bypass... oh it's so heart wrenching, even if I've seen the movie already.  Delish.

Now, don't let me fool you into thinking that I'm sitting on my loins, drinking wine and living a sedentary life, oh no.  I'm still hitting the gym at Memorial every weekday for an hour and a half.  I'm running, walking and doing the elliptical machine for an hour and then spending thirty minutes weight training.  I'm trying to be positive, but to be honest I really wish I'd start seeing some more dramatic results, but after three weeks I'm not impressed.

I'm staying with it, and hoping that by the time bikini season rolls around (in like SIX freakin' weeks) I'll be in a more acceptable state than I am now.  Stay tuned.

And then if the gym hasn't been enough fun for me, I came home today to a big hairy clog in our plumbing.  Usually this is where Big Dave jumps in and saves the day... by himself.  However, my poor boy is One-Armed-Willie with his broken paw, leaving me to wield the shovel while he manned the auto-feed snake machine we rented from Home Depot.  He fed the line while I dug up the pipe.  (That counts as TWO workouts for today if you ask me.)

We found the clog, cleared the pipe, life is good... and my back is killing me. 

Uh oh... (knock knock) are you still there? I apologize.  The ramblings may have polluted your brain forever. 

And I love you. 

Have a great weekend!!!!

 

 

There's green stuff out there!

The plum trees are budding up, and the squirrels are humping in the pear tree, which means that it's time for green stuff to appear in the Dhuland garden.

And sure enough, it hasn't let me down!

Hi there baby lettuce...

 

Aren't you precious...

And your sweet pea pals are smiling up at Mr. Sunshine too...

 

And on the other side of the garden we've got some onions peeping out of their well composted soil...

 

Along with my inaugural crop of rainbow chard...

 

Of course I've got a whole mess of seeds patiently waiting snug in their packets for mid March when I'll hoe the rows, pile the mounds, and raise the cages. 

I CAN'T WAIT!!!!!

Now... if I can just do something about the pomeranian in my compost pile...

 
Ruby!

Friday...

Sure, most people are like, "Hot diggity dog, it's Friday!" But around here in Dhuland, it's pretty anticlimactic. 

See, Big Dave had to have surgery on his right hand this past Tuesday because he broke his pinky knuckle in an altercation with our beer fridge.  (It wasn't pretty, and the fridge has the knuckle dents to prove it.)

Needless to say, my poor pup of a man has been subjected to an elbow length cast and a large spongy box in which he is to rest his arm in an upright position.  Boys... when will they learn that refrigerators are NOT punching bags? 

However, the agony of defeat has been countered  with the official doctor's proclamation of NO work for 4 to 6 weeks.  Yes, it's true.  Big Dave has been commanded to stay work-free for at least a month. At first, this might seem delightful right?

But just in case you don't know, I'm out of work for the next few weeks at least, which means....

OH MY GOSH I HAVE TO BE HOME WITH MY HUSBAND FOR A REEEEEEEEALLY LONG TIME!!!!  

You're feeling my pain aren't you?

Divorce may be imminent. 

He's already stir-crazy and it's only been three days.  And so what if it's Friday...

Send help...

 

The Tybee 5K... Through the Eyes of Yours Truly...

It was a cold and rainy morning...

It was the day I had been looking forward to...

The morning of the big race...

Okay, let's back up.

The Critz Tybee Half Marathon and 5K took over Tybee Island this past weekend.  I'd registered for it immediately after run/walking the Bridge 5K back in December while still on the 'WhoohOoo I survived the Bridge' high, with the hopes that it would keep me motivated to "Move more" as Cathy Zielske has been urging us to do on her blog.

So what the heck, I paid my forty bucks (twenty for me, twenty for Miss Priss) and began training to actually run the full 5K without stopping, from start to finish.  It would be the longest distance I've ever run in my entire, sedentary life. 

Could I do it? 

I was worried.

With less than two weeks left before the race, I was still only able to run two miles on treadmill.  However, Mendy (my hottie neighbor) kept encouraging me and saying that if I could run that distance on the treadmill, I should definitely be able to run the full 3.1 miles of the 5K. 

Really?

For some reason I figured it was a lot easier to run on a nice steady treadmill in a climate controlled environment while watching Regis and Kelly.  No?  Was Mendy the hottie neighbor just blowing smoke up my arse? 

I figured I'd go out there and run as well as I could and set a completion time of 43 minutes as my goal.  Here goes nothin.

Which leads us to the morning of the race.

Unfortunately the balmy weather earlier in the week had nose-dived back into the forties and fifties with a near 100 percent chance of rain. 

Rain?  At the beach?  Oh that is just criminal.

And yet, there we were, the four of us, Mendy and her daughter together with Miss Priss and myself leaning into the pelting rain walking toward the starting line.  The icy rain soaked through our clothes before the race ever even started. 

We joined the group of approximately 1000 participants huddling against the cold.  I vaguely remember hearing the National Anthem being sung, some words of encouragement through the loudspeakers, and then we were off!

It was packed, there were people walking with strollers, running with umbrellas, jogging in plastic trashbags, you name it.  And since I had a time goal, I had to navigate my way through the hodge podge of bodies, trying my best to get to an opening in the crowd so I could gain speed.

We wound through the neighborhoods of the north end of Tybee Island, (which may I add have at least two HILLS in them... seriously?  When did Tybee get hills?  Can't say I've ever noticed them before I actually had to jog up them.) 

Apparently I missed the '1 MILE' sign, so I had no idea of where I was as far as my goal time, then we turned left onto Butler Avenue and before I knew it, I caught sight of the '2 MILE' sign.  Checking my watch, I realized that I was at the 26 minute mark... what??  I was running a thirteen minute mile?  I couldn't believe it... this was the best time I'd run EVER (and yet still SO much slower than the real runners.)

Energized, I continued to give myself mini pep talks, while listening to the steady flow of 80's hits on my I-Pod... Whitney Houston, Tom Petty, The Bangles... I've got this... I've got this...

I was surrounded by people of all shapes, sizes, and ages... there was a man about my age with his little girl, probably about 5 or 6 years old, a couple of high school girls, a white haired woman... I passed people walking, someone actually jogging slower than me, and was passed by people coming from the back of the pack.  The bustle of it all kept me moving forward.

The rain poured steadily, dripping from my hat, into my face, washing whatever snot I missed with the back of my hand into my mouth.

It was awesome.

And then?  Then I was turning onto 16th Street, the final one hundred yards of the race.  My adrenaline surged and I was running as fast as my wobbly, soaked legs would carry me.  I couldn't believe it, I was going to run the whole freakin' race!!

 
And there I am!!  In the back right, with the white sweatshirt, black pants and striped hat.  The one with the look like, "HOLY CRAP I JUST RAN A 5K!!!" look on my face... the one who was seriously considering crying because I was so danged proud of myself for doing it... the one that was looking for a trash can because I was also pretty sure I was about to barf my brains out. (Have no fear, I managed to quell the upchuck and save myself from embarassment.)

Miss Priss came in several minutes after me, but she was lookin' good in all that rain...

 
My official time was 39:26... almost SIX minutes faster than the Bridge run in December. 

 

It was a GREAT experience, I would do it all over again if I had the chance... even in the pouring rain, wind and cold. And now to keep my momentum going, I think I'll register for the Shamrock 5K in March... heck, why not, right?

At this rate I should be bikini ready by April... yikes!

;)

 

Back When I Was Invincible...

Remember those days? (Think real hard.) When you were a teen and figured that the whole darned world was your playground?

I was reminded of the 'good ol' days' last weekend at a party we attended up the road from our house.  (As you may remember, my parents built out here in Dhuland back when I was six years old, and I lived here until I was twenty.  And since I lucked up and now live in the house right next door to my Mom's house, I have all kinds of opportunities to wallow around in memories of my past.)

Which brings us back to last weekend's party.

The hosts treated us to a gorgeous view of the Vernon River at sunset, which albeit breathtaking with it's pinks, purples and golds, could not distract me from this...

 

This, my friends, is a 1320 foot monument to my teenage invincibility (or should I say stupidity?)

If you've ever been down my way, you may have seen this quarter mile long dock reaching out to the Vernon like a four foot wide runway.  It's definitely the longest privately owned dock I've ever seen.  And it happens to belong to the family of one of my teen-hood cohorts. 

Hmmm... and maybe he wasn't so much a cohort, as maybe a partner in crime? Or perhaps we were superheros and just didn't know it, because the crazy crap that we pulled together should've landed us in the hospital... or in jail, at least a dozen times.

Yes... my superpower must've been invincibility...

 

...because we would come home from a night of carousing, dim the headlights, quietly pull into his parking place and then jump into the golfcart to head down to the dock.  And guess who was usually the driver?

ME!

And of course we couldn't turn on the headlights, because the imfamous cop who regularly patrolled the streets of Dhuland might see us.  So, there we'd go with our shields of teenage armor wrapped tightly around us, zipping through the yard, across the road, through the oak trees, and onto the wooden slats of the dock. 

How we didn't pitch that golf cart, and ourselves, off of that dock and into the mud remains one of the great mysteries (and miracles, thank you God) in  my life.

Fast cars... fast boys...

 

 (aw, lookit how cute they were...)

And seriously?  Where did my cloak of invincibility go?  Do I still have it somewhere?  Because I'm thinkin' it might've gotten stuffed into a Goodwill bag somewhere around the time I turned twenty five.  Or maybe it was motherhood?  Is maternity the Kryptonite to invincibility? 

I think that might be it, because you dang sure won't see my happy ass trying to navigate a golf cart down that dock in the daytime these days, let alone at night.  Nope.  Ain't gonna do it.

Thinkin' back, I'm pretty sure I didn't even have a learners permit when we were out cattin' around in our stupidity invincibility cloaks... so what, I was like fourteen?  Dear Jesus.

And Miss Priss is about to turn thirteen?  Oh crap.

I'm in trouble.

(Anybody know where I can buy some invincibility on the cheap?  She's a size zero... thanks.)

 

Ah, the 70's...

...and I ain't talkin' bout the decade.  Nope, I'm talkin' about the temperature... as in forty degrees ABOVE freezing.  Pure, unadulterated perfection.

 
So you better believe I took full advantage of it.  In fact, me thinks there's a bit of a sunkiss on my pale, winter-berated cheeks. 

Don't get me wrong, the day wasn't all sunshine and flip flops.  The first hour and forty minutes were dedicated to walking (>) six stinkin' miles... the first four or so in the gym and the next couple at Lake Mayer with Tricia.  At least the company was good during the latter leg. 

I can't say the same for the gym... there's this sweaty dude that worked out on almost every piece of equipment in the place, yet never once did I see him wipe down the equipment when he was done.  (Gym rules state that you must wipe the machines down with disinfectant after each use.)  Well crud, would somebody please tell Godzilla the Sweat Monster to please take care of this?  Of course I'm too non-confrontational to say anything to him, or even the manager.  Guess I'll have to leave an anonymous note... I'm SUCH a coward. Ugh. 

Anyhoodles, after walking to the Promised Land and back, as well as a nice light lunch, I headed home for a change in scenery... specifically poolside scenery.  Meow.

And while lounging in the sun, accompanied by three panting, sun-sprawled pups, I started the one thing I said I was NEVER going to start...

Yep, I did it.  I bought the stinkin' book, The Girl Who Played with Fire. After the foulness of the first in the series, I'd sworn them off.  But then people kept saying, "Oh, you've GOT to read the second book..." or "Man, the second book is SO good..." or "Wake up you freakin' moron and read the second book before your head explodes..."  

And then yesterday morning while I was doing my very best water-buffalo- on-a-treadmill inpersonation, I noticed that the cute little redhead with the microscopic waist and Barbie doll butt was reading it as she chugged along on her oh so dang cool looking elliptical machine. 

I figured it must be a sign.  Not only did I jump on the elliptical machine after she left and manage to stay upright and drool-free for ten whole minutes (nothing compared to the forty minutes that most of the die-hards do), but I went to Walmart immediately afterward and picked up the book.

The best part, however is that when I placed the book in my buggy and turned around, lo and behold stood the cute little redhead with the walnut crackin' buttocks.  I was like, "Hey I was just behind you on the treadmill at the gym, and you inspired me to get this book!"  (I failed to mention that I tried to impersonate her on the elliptical machine and lasciviously covet her buns of steel.)

And she was like, "Oh my GOSH yes this book is SO good!"

So see?  I had to get it.  And now I'm reading it.  And it's already traumatized me thirteen ways from Sunday, and I can't stop.

Hmmm... so let's recap.  High in the 70's, good walk, nasty sweaty man, creepy book, hiney that looks like a couple o' young firm cantelopes packed in a sack.

I'd say this has been a pretty good day.

;)