Humble pie

{good medicine}

The cat’s out

Before retiring for a good night’s sleep, make certain your cat is out–rather than, you know, assume.  All the more so if you just finished watching Castle–because there you’ll be, all snuggled in, just tipping on the edge of that blessed REM sleep, when you hear something.  Of course when you first hear that eery noise outside, you’re sitting there typing your next mystery novel.  You stop, lift your fingers from the keys, and hear it again.  It’s a scraping noise.  And it’s getting louder … it’s getting closer.  You hear it again … but this time, you’re no longer sitting at your typewriter in your purple smoking jacket, you’re lying in bed, in your yellow pjs.  Suddenly, you realize the noise is not coming from outside at all … it’s coming from your room … from YOUR CLOSET!  The door creaks open … and that’s when you die of a heart attack. And it all could have been avoided by ensuring your cat is out.

Learning the ropes

As you might have gathered from the helpful hint offered yesterday, I had a bit of a mishap whilst visiting Zoo Boise.

Here’s how it all went down:

I was taking pictures of the giraffe, because, seriously, you just don’t get much cuter than a long-necked mammal.  I began by taking pictures under the lovely thatched tent; I leaned against the cement divide, zoomed in, and snapped …

{I really wish they’d stop with the pictures already}

Aaaah, so cute.  After several shots, I meandered over to the side. I leaned in, like before, only nothing was there–nothing but air, and a rope at my knees.  Oomph!  I said, then I yelped, then, apparently, I snapped a photo …

{What the?!*}

Like a bull rider on the ride of his life,one hand gripped the rope, the other, camera held high, lassoed the air in a valiant attempt to keep balance.  After a considerable amount of flailing about, I found myself on the opposite side, in the bushes.  Collecting myself, I stepped back over the rope as if nothing at all happened. Then took the photo that sums it up nicely…

{Dude! Did you see that? Camera lady just fell in the bushes!}

All mocking expressions aside, I didn’t fall to the ground.  I didn’t utter profanities.  I didn’t even get yelled at by Zoo personnel for being on the wrong side of the rope.  So I’m thinking this humiliation ain’t nothing but a win, my friends, nothing but a win …

Photo {mis}Op

When at the zoo, on the last day of a busy, three-day-weekend, and you’re trying to get that perfect photo of the handsome giraffe, it would behoove you to actually look–to make certain the divide in front of you is concrete and not, you know, rope–before you lean in for the shot.

On the ball…

After a long weekend of eating EVERYTHING IN SIGHT, I decided perhaps it would behoove me to jump back on the exercise bandwagon. It will, of course, include time on my stability exercise ball.  It’s just a big, shiny ball … full of fun and whimsy … no work … just play…

My aunt–having lost 56 pounds–has been a major source of inspiration. We were discussing the ball last weekend.  She asked what exercises I did; I pulled out the ball to demonstrate. I ran through push-ups, sit-ups, and ball-passes.  As a bonus, I decided to throw in a manuever I vaguely recalled seeing. 

Now that I’ve done a bit of research, it seems my efforts were perhaps a cross between a plank-pike-up and a pull-in?  I don’t know. But here’s how it went down: with my knees on the floor, toes on the ball, I’d use my ab muscles to roll back onto the ball, in plank position.  Of course, in order to do so, I had to OOMPH, puff out my cheeks, and bulge my eyeballs just short of flying out of their sockets.   

Obviously, people like me should never ben left alone to their own devices when it comes to exercise. 

Although, I may be onto something.  It did seem to work my abs.  Or maybe it was just the hysterical laughter that ensued following each rep. In which case, my aunt got a good workout too.  And that, my friends, only reinforces the notion that I should never, ever–not in a million years–exercise in public. 

That was my chair … no really!

Should you ever be tempted to use, say, a chair from your great-grandmother’s dining room set for your office chair – don’t. Even if you’ve been gifted with plenty of padding, so it’s rarely uncomfortable … and it’s good for the ol’ posture … and it saves you money – because, let’s be serious, you’re all about that. But here’s the thing, that old chair creaks with each movement you make.  Sure, you’ll get used to those pops and creaks – until one day you’re on an ever-important-conference call.  Suddenly, you’ll realize those sounds are louder than you thought.  And there’s a slight possibility they could be construed as something quite uncouth … if you know what I mean and I think that you do.   Then you’ll spend the next fifteen minutes with your hand tightly clasped over your mouth, willing yourself not to laugh … whereby missing a whole block of discussion regarding your next big project. It’s either that or gaffaw right in the middle of technical specs … at which point you’ll be forced to explain … which simply cannot end in goodness of any kind.

That said, buy the new chair, my friends…buy the new chair.