Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Care to comment?
Just a note, I have made a change to the comments area. Periodically I get blog comments that are really advertisements. And while it's not like I am innundated with them, lately I have been quite irked with spam in general, and finally did something about it here. From now on, when you make a comment you will be asked to verify some text on your screen. It's not a big deal, and in fact I have seen it on a lot of blogs. You can still comment anonymously and so on, it's just one small thing to fight those dern spammers! And since I am lazy, it probably would have gone on forever, except I just happened to see something from blogger about adding it to the comments LOL. So last night I had water and celery for dinner. And this morning I had water and celery for breakfast. Gee. I wonder what I can eat for lunch *rolls eyes*. I have been looking for a personal trainer. I need somebody to come up with an exercise plan for me that takes into account certain things (limitations regarding my back, nerve damage, and so on). Then to work with me for a while to get me going, and make sure I am doing everything properly. Then after that, taper off into maintenance until we need to revamp again. I am being picky, because I want somebody that I can work with without wanting to kill. We have a lumber and drywall delivery coming today, DH is "finally" making the workout room in the basement. You see, for ten years he has told me he is going to make a room in the basement. First it was going to be a bar. But five years later DD was born and a bar didn't seem like a good idea anymore (and no, he hadn't started construction anyway LOL). Then it was going to be a music-slash-game room, to house his drums, equipment, and have an area to store all our boardgames and such. After drawing up plans and buying a brand spanking new drum kit and upgrading all his lighting and sound equipment, he realized he never really LIKED playing the drums and stopped playing. Then DD got old enough to play real board games, and he decided to drop the music aspect and just make it a "games and hobby" room. He planned an area where he could leave out a jigsaw puzzle to work on, and a big round table to play games and cards on. Great idea. But it never happened. He kept talking about wanting to start working out again, and I have been wanting enough room to use one of my workout tapes, so the plans changed to a WORKOUT room. I bought him a weight bench that works with the free weights he already has (currently holding down christmas decoration boxes, in case they try to escape) and is versitile enough for me to use for my circuit training. Now he just has to build the room. In light of my recent health woes (not the old health woes, but NEW ones. Sheesh) he has lit a fire under his own butt, ordered the supplies, and now HAS to start the room when the stuff comes because we have no place to store it. The room plan is pretty basic. A weight bench, a treadmill. A tv and VCR set up for exercise tapes. Enough floor space to do yoga or a workout or for circuit training with bands - that sort of thing. I am doing some research to try and figure out what colour would be best for the room. It will have a drop ceiling, but with fancier ceiling tiles - none of the industrial 2x4 oblongs with little holes in them. We'll do peel and stick tiles for the floor, and I want to put one full-length mirror on one of the walls. Just in case you didn't know, those mirrors are not for looking at your bulges and exclaiming "Holy crap! Where did that come from!" while poking areas of your body and looking horrified. And they are not for standing and admiring your buffness, either. They are there so you can check your technique and make sure you are doing what you are supposed to do, as far as posture etc. are concerned. Just in case you didn't know. Although I am sure there isn't a person in the world that can resist turning around to check the condition of their butt. Why is it that when presented with a full length mirror, most of us turn around so we can be shocked at the condition of our own behinds? How can we not know the state of something we carry with us always? Yet still, there it is. Although in my case I never need to look, because I have a 6 year old daughter that makes sure I understand the hugeness of my heiny at every opportunity. As a side effect of building this room, I will have a proper laundry area, complete with table for folding clothes and staging the wash. And we will have an actual storage area! That is so exciting, because right now "storage" means 'lay everything in a single layer across the basement floor, specifically in pathways and doorways to try and trip your wife or make her angry enough to have a stroke'. I already have the brackets and the plywood strips to make shelves, and there will be an open area for stacking those tote containers. Maybe when I win the lottery I might be able to afford the special shelving they sell specifically for those tubs. And just think, we might be able to get all the stuff stored in the fruit cellar (we always called it that but I think everyone else calls it a root cellar) out into storage, so I can start using the fruit cellar properly. It needs to be ventilated and insulated differently, as it is always too warm. Even in the winter, the fruit cellar is warmer than the rest of the basement! I am so looking forward to finishing it, and finally having a place to store things like potatoes and onions. But I am getting ahead of myself, the room has to be built and Rome wasn't built in a day, right? Last night, we all went out to the golf center. I sat on a bench and knitted on the scarf while DH and DD hit a bucket of balls. I can't tell you how cute it is to watch a 6 year old hit balls at a driving range LOL. She averaged about 25 yards and usually does better. I don't usually go and I think it was distracting her. She wants me there, but if I go she kind of wants to cling to me rather than enjoy what is going on. Afterwards, we played 18 holes of goofy golf. Well, they played and I tagged along, acting as scorekeeper. I want to say for the record, that they both cheat. Or rather, indulge in creative scoring. A lot of redo's, mulligans, and "long putts" - which is what my dad used to call it when we sort of dragged the ball with the putter where we wanted it to go, rather than really putting it. The last hole is a contraption that keeps your ball. It is a spiral, and depending on where you ball ends up, you take so many strokes off your game or can even win a free game. I think that hole took the LONGEST. For some reason DD couldn't hit the ball hard enough to go all the way into the spiral, and DH took way longer than needed to line up his shot. I was freezing to death and getting bit by mosquitoes, it was all I could do not to grab their balls and toss them over the fence onto the highway. But I showed remarkable constraint, and managed to avoid that temptation. I might have given a few pokes with knitting needles, however.