And so it begins...

  Recently, my doctor discovered that I allegedly have the spine of a 112 year old person and is amazed I was not writhing on his floor in constant pain. My husband diagnosed me as being extremely Polish years ago, but I digress. All I was grousing about was what I thought was a minor annoyance that wasn't going away. It felt like I was having a hot flash down one side of my leg when I moved a certain way. He sat me down and explained the results of my MRI in English and then developed an expensive treatment plan. It was the most polite robbery I'd  ever been to.
  The "treatment plan" involved me handing over three copays a week for 8 weeks or until the new golf clubs are paid for. Seriously, I found this practitioner from the recommendations of knowledgeable friends so I can't call the guy a "sheister" by any means. I'm just more annoyed/depressed by the expense among other things. I was also informed that exercise was verboten for two weeks. I was not even allowed to take a walk.
   For most normal humans, this is not that big a deal. Yours truly lasted three days before the antsy pants set in.  Who, in their right mind, loves to exercise? How are running, tire flipping, or burpees anyone's definition of a good time?  Herein lies the rub, it's  not the activity itself so much as what I get out of it. I had no idea how much I've  come to rely on the stress relief it provides until I wasn't  able to do it.
  A few weeks back, our area got a ridiculous amount of rain. We had water in our basement and the room I take my workout class in was also flooded. It also happened to be the week the hormone fairy hit. O joy. Earth was getting on my goddamn nerves. When even I notice I'm extra cranky, it's bad. I even asked my ob about it, suspecting I may be on the verge of menopause. She assured me that if I were, the grumpiness was supposed to decrease, not increase. Is there anything I can do to help this?, I asked. Her response was, you guessed it, exercise! Oi fucking vey.
   I have now almost survived two weeks of doing not much. My sanity was questionable to begin with but now I think it's close to packing its bags and leaving altogether. Besides the stress relief, the exercise allowed me to keep some very old beasts in their cages. When I began the high intensity interval training, I was somewhat in shape. Several months in, however, I began to lose weight. This was not intentional so much as it was taken off my hide. This past summer, for the first time in I couldn't tell how many presidents, I wanted my picture taken in a bathing suit. I don't think this ever happened to me even in my twenties, when you would have wanted to see the picture, much less twenty five years later! Mind you, last summer's suit was "age appropriate" but stylish.
  I have to continuously remind myself that my idea of no exercise has so far meant sneaking off to a gym on a friend's membership and doing some pedaling and eliptical stuff. I maintain my what's left of my sanity for your protection. My "beasties" are also old, crazy, and have lousy eyesight. These creatures  have been in my brain since my late teens. They criticize, catastrophize and are completely unrealistic. "It's been two weeks, you must need your own zip code by now!" Do I look any different than I did two weeks ago?, of course not. Rational thought has nothing to do with them. They do nothing but generate annoying swamp gas bubbles in my brain.
   I would love to evict these tenants, any ideas?

The great pudding fight

    I frequently find myself overwhelmed by my own little personal vortex. We say a lot of things at our house like "one disaster at a time" and "eat your elephant one bite at a time" but I need stronger reminders. (I'm  talking the business end of a baseball bat`stronger reminders.') There is always going to be too much to do and not enough time to do it in, right? Will I be a stressed out retired person someday? I wouldn't put it past me.
   Accepting that some things are just not going to happen in any given day is not easy for me but some days, when the stars are aligned, it happens. Life goes on and we're all still alive. Therein lies the rub. Life goes on -way too goddamn fast for my taste and I have the unmitigated gaul to want to enjoy parts of it every day. Why not go for something  more realistic like invisibility  or sprouting wings?
  There was one day recently, for example when we, as a family we'e overscheduled. We had three doctor appointments and a school function in one day. I am not used to that much activity. That was also an anomaly for us and now I remember why. It felt like I was in full on survival mode. Having a day in which you can't  wait for bedtime is not much of a fun day.
   Once again, I'm  losing sight of the fact that I live with a fabulous example of my life goal. My daughter is blissfully unaware of anything remotely practical or responsible. One could argue that life is full of responsibility and you need to prepare your child to handle it. That is more or less true but how do you manage a balance of sorts when what I'd  really like to do is trade places?!
   I believe my observation is skewed. There is value in to do lists and I have no plans to abandon the minimum daily requirements of grown up bologna that must be dealt with but it may help to change how I go about my work. The first question I could ask myself is how would my daughter do this? Would she do it on one foot? Would she do it with heroic sound effects? Would she do it while singing the theme song to Captain Underpants? My money is on Underpants. Shoprite, the gas station, and even vacuuming would certainly be more interesting. It's also a question of maintenance. Allegedly it can take six weeks or longer to establish a new habit, but what about a new attitude?
   A theme song may be a bit much, especially for someone with a voice for accounting. I need something that fits me a little better but still includes some "stretching". I could improvise a cape, for example. (That wouldn't work for job interviews but maybe a casual Friday if I got hired.) Doing housework on one foot is probably an er visit waiting to happen so that's out.  I'm open to suggestions on this.
  It could also be that my to do list is too short. Wait, What??!!!
  Ok, bear with me, here. The issue is "the list" includes only work/necessary items. When I watch my girl try to do homework, she never stays on task for long. We`ve been trying to correct this but maybe she's  had it right all along, in a manner of speaking. What I'm  getting at is the idea of including fun things and treating them as necessary items. All work and no play, has made Jill not just dull, but a little pissy.
When I grow up, I want to be nine.
   So, dear reader, What does your list look like?