You’d never think it from my Facebook feed or from the previous sixty years of my life, but I started exercising about six weeks ago. Witnessing recent illnesses in the family as well as my own shortcomings in controlling diabetes made it a priority.
Two things happened that are worthy of note.
A little encouragement goes a long way.
I was out for a run (no, no one was chasing me) a couple weeks ago in really hot, humid weather. I probably shouldn’t have been out vigorously exercising on such a scorcher particularly since I was just starting my exercise program after having been sedentary for… well, a really, really long time. Like years. Anyway, I was running along Hoadly Road and a bicyclist passed me going the other way. “Good job! Keep it up!” he shouted to me as he whizzed past.
Just that little bit of anonymous encouragement made me lengthen my stride, improve my posture and run a tad faster. I was surprised at the immediate effect that it had on my run and my dedication to keep it up. That bicyclist will never know the impact that his five little words had on me.
My point? Never underestimate the power of kind words of encouragement. You never know whose life you might be improving. (Especially kids.)
Sidebar: I bought myself a Fitbit. It’s a surprisingly good motivational tool.
Vigorous exercise improves depression better than any pill I’ve taken.
I’ve taken ‘em all over the years. Exercise works wonders. I hate it, I truly hate exercise, but you know what? It freakin’ works.
My one comment about the Clinton email decision by FBI Director James Comey.
I think I’ll notify my government bosses at the U.S. Department of Transportation that I’ve set up my own email server and will no longer use government email for my daily business interactions.
Allow me to introduce you to this little asshole. I’d apologize in advance for the language but it’s already too late for that and I refuse to use the backspace.
My family’s pizza shop had this magical oven-toasted sub aptly named the Sub Divine. It was a glorious gold standard for hot subs everywhere. I miss it and every now and then I crave it so much that I replicate it at home. Usually with rousing success. I have, after all, 14 yrs experience making them.
I dropped the ball today, though. As I type this, my nose is still running and I’m positive I’m working through a mild stroke. Bear with me.
I looooooove spicy food. Love it. Always have. But I knew that if I substituted the shredded cheddar for habenero cheese, I better tread lightly. I thought I sliced it up thin enough for both pieces of bread (I had no sub buns) that I could avoid feeling like I was biting on Satan’s hairy undercarriage but failed spectacularly. In the picture you’ll see the delicious sandwich before I wrapped it in foil and baked it. Do not be fooled by it’s innocent look; I still can’t feel the roof of my mouth.
The lovely & talented Beth.
I knew after the first bite that something was wrong. The pain was almost immediate and was soon followed by shaking. I breathed through each bite like I was in labor and powered through half of it with sheer will and the power of prayer. I’d spent too much time creating this masterpiece to give up like a little bitch.
Alas, after half of the sandwich disappeared, so did my will to live. It was me or the sandwich and I chose me.
My tongue isn’t currently working properly and after blowing my nose and washing my face with cold water, I was able to stumble outside for fresh air, mumbling “Nothing about me feels good about any of that”.
This mofo ended up just being a bunch of toppings encased wall-to-wall in pure hatred.
I couldn’t even tell you if it was good or not. I *think* I tasted banana peppers and pepperoni at first but it was short-lived. After that, all I could taste was hell fire and every mistake I’ve ever made in my life.
Probably the worst part of all of this is the fact that I’ll have to relive the pain all over again tomorrow.
Look at that sandwich…..it was a simpler time and I was but a 35 yr old girl full of hope and wonder. Now Satan himself is holding a Fight Club meeting in my stomach and no one is the winner.
The lovely and talented Beth Geyer posted this on Facebook today and it had me laughing. Well done, Beth!
Here’s another in a series of posts I’m going to make when I find some of these treasures. Some will be captioned, others will not. The only criteria for posting in this series is that:
a.) I’m in the photo or…
b.) … I took the photo.
From a few years ago when Nate and Garrett and I went to the Potomac Nationals game. They got to run the bases afterwards and this was taken shortly thereafter. Fun night!
I took this at the STEM Symposium this year. Tom was checking out one of Turner-Fairbank’s connected vehicles that was on display.
Fun selfie from nephew Andy’s graduation from the Army’s CGSS, which I presume means “Command and General Staff School,” but I don’t really keep up with such things anymore. To my left, Emily, Andy’s spousal unit; Andy himself; my sister and Andy’s mom, B.J.; and in the back, Andy’s’ Dad, Michael and stepmom, Brenda. ‘Twas a nice graduation conducted in the typical Army fashion.
Me in a Marine Corps uniform on the set of “House of Cards” season four. It was a tense moment.
(A couple of these have already been on Facebook. Yeah, this is a lazy man’s post today.)
6. Benedict Cumberbatch is a tremendous actor.
