Recent events have me on edge and my feelings are not in a good place. I am so excited about 90% of my life, but that last 10% weighs on my soul like pure terror.
I say this… because at least, thanks to my Hungryroot Box I will eat well.
Last Hungryroot box I did not order recipes. This time I did. I got the scallop tacos and the tuna melts. Plus groceries. Read this to learn about my first box.
My initial impression, especially when comparing Hungryroot to Hello Fresh, is that Hungryroot is better at providing recipes that are mostly fresh and easy. If Hungryroot tells you a meal is ready in 15 minutes, it’s ready in 15 minutes. If Hello Fresh tells you a meal is ready in 30 minutes, that depends on how well you interpret directions and how fast you chop.
If you want to learn to cook, get Hello Fresh. If you want to throw something together, consider Hungryroot.
So THE SCALLOP TACOS.
First, the recipe is printed on the back of your pack slip and cut out to put in an old fashioned recipe box. That is efficient in my eyes.
For this recipe, there is a bag of corn tortillas, a tray of Peruvian scallops, a plastic container of shredded carrots, kale and red cabbage, and a container of green Chile sauce. That’s it.
Pat scallops dry. Sear. Flip. Cook 3-5 minutes until opaque. Set aside.
Toss a little more oil in pan. Sauté vegetables until cooked. (I added some fresh lemon juice because the teenager resists kale & red cabbage.)
Fry up tortilla.
Put veggies & scallops in tortilla. Add green Chile sauce to taste. I also added avocado and my homemade corn salsa.
Delicious. Simple. Nourishing.
I love the balance of whole and processed foods with Hungryroot.
My Purple Carrot box comes Aug. 24.
“Mom!” the daughter says, “Stop with the meal delivery services!!!”
In other news:
As many of you know I worked at Target 2536 in Lower Nazareth for almost a decade. They had a shooting in the parking lot yesterday afternoon and “we” made the Philadelphia evening news.
ALL employees were safe and hid the people shopping in the store. The front of the building is all glass.
It was a troubling afternoon and those of us who used to work in the store, those who had off, and those who were in the store at the time, were texting and using social media to verify people’s safety and offer support. #targetfam
First, the exciting news of the day… our new gym shirts from The Fitness Tee Co arrived a day early. The teenager presents an unboxing on YouTube here.
I couldn’t resist the doughnut tank and the other witty slogans. They were about $20 each and there was a BOGO 50 % off sale on the day I ordered. Shipping was $10.
Coffee and Weights
Let’s Hit the Bar
Cutting Carbs is Hard so I only eat doughnuts with holes
Update on the progresswithApex Training: As I mentioned in yesterday’s post, my trainer, Dan, and I worked core and lower body hard. (Read that here.)
Today my thighs and maybe my hamstrings hurt. Everything hurts. But when I went to work in QC tonight, I emptied every fix from the carts with the same squat form I would use if he were watching. That’s more than 125 times. And here’s the tidbit to consider about my quest to learn more about my body and my cerebral palsy, even though my thighs and hamstrings hurt, my knees moved much easier than I recall. Is it true? Or just my perception? And I came home without any back pain.
Three cheers to my trainer Dan at Apex.
In other Bizzy Hizzy Stitch Fix news, my supervisor has asked me to learn mailer machine. This is a work center only a few people in each shift know how to do. I have heard stories of the finicky and evil mailer machine. But, of course, I said sure.
As my supervisor walked away, I started to get a panicky feeling inside. Yesterday I was moved from my normal spot in QC to a position on the warehouse floor consolidating items in the flat pack bins. Then I got moved from that to men’s returns processing.
On Wednesday, I trained a brand new temp on women’s returns processing.
And now next week the mailer machine?
A few weeks ago it was a brief exposure to style carding.
My insecurity flared— thanks past employers— and I wondered “do I perform so poorly they keep moving me around to a place where I fit?”
And I chastised myself because I know the metrics, I’m not a bad employee. I hope they see I am reliable, flexible, smart, and enjoy learning.
To calm my insecurity, I texted my talented and lovely friend Joan. She retired from a place you might know, Martin Guitar. She worked, I believe, in human resource stuff. And she has some fancy jargon to toss around like Sigma and stuff.
I asked her, texting on my final ten minute break of the night: “I consistently achieve 96% of goal. They constantly train me for new things— spending a day here and there without mastering anything. Am I someone they can rely on? Or are they trying to find something I can do?”
I could hear Joan’s sigh across the night.
She replied, “They recognize that you are smart, and they don’t want you to get bored. They are cross training you to keep you flexible… They know you will catch on fast and do your best, even if it’s not 100% against their numbers. Does the job get done fast and well? Can they rely on you to do it? Of course!”
Everyone needs a friend like Joan.
Tell your insecurities to go f*ck themselves
The wise and effervescent Joan Z
She goes on, “Remember, they’re putting you where they need you. You are a willing pair of hands and pretty good at it. As I used to tell the people at the guitar factory, the more stuff you know how to do, the more valuable you are to the company.”
But here’s my favorite advice, “Tell your insecurities to go f*ck themselves.”
My body turned to me as I went to my car after work today, and as I fiddled with the radio (calling up Natalie Merchant on Spotify singing Space Oddity), my body said to me,
“Jesus, woman, what are you doing? We need to talk.”
But seriously.
Let’s start at the beginning, shall we? But we can’t spend too much time on all this as it is 1:30 a.m. and my aching body craves sleep.
The teenager was up fairly early today so I suggested she and our almost 1-year-old pit bull/mastiff/black lab puppy walk with me to the gym, about 5 blocks away.
Now if you’re new here… I’m 46 years old, a former newspaper reporter. I have an amazing 17-year-old daughter. Her father and I separated two years ago but he lives nearby and is still an important part of our household. I have cerebral palsy. He has a club hand. I have recently started a quest to learn more about my body, restart my bodybuilding commitment (I was really into it six years ago) as an alternative to traditional physical therapy, and hopefully lose the 20 pounds I gained stress eating to cope with the toxic workplace of the last nonprofit I worked for.
So, the teenager, the dog and I walked up to the gym. F. Bean Barker is learning new manners everyday and the guys at the gym thought she was a beautiful dog.
And then the focus changed to leg day. Now, on upper body day I get to train like a normal person. On lower body day, my poor trainer has to balance my physical deficits with my desire to kick ass.
Or maybe I’m just as awkward both days, and I just never noticed.
Today was session six. It’s the last week of two sessions a week and next week we increase to three.
Please note: I have been in gyms lifting weights since college, which was about 25 years ago, and in recent years I’ve been in physical therapy to learn to walk, for balance, for the strain of my lumbar region caused by trouble with my S1 joint and my broken ankle. Every body is different. Every ailment or disability is different. It is a quest to balance what works for you, what your body needs and what hurts.
I firmly believe that nothing fixes the body like the right exercises. But for people with disabilities or health issues, it’s hard to recognize what pain you need to work through and what hurt is bad. As a weight lifter, I know muscle recovery pain. As a person with a disability, I often experience burning pain.
As a society, I feel like we invest so much money in medical tests, mental health, drugs, organic food, but we don’t want to pay for a trainer.
My trainer is getting to know me. He knows how to observe me. He asks questions about my mobility. We test exercises by going easy at first and adjusting them based on my performance.
And he reads me well.
There are times I can tell he’s afraid of pushing me too far and then I do the exercise and he makes it ten times harder because I surpassed his expectations. This makes him a good trainer because it means he’s testing my basic form and strength so I don’t get hurt. And he readsmy body language to see how I’m doing— not relying on my words.
A good trainer has to push you out of your comfort zone. But he also has to make sure everything’s executed for best impact and in a way that you don’t get hurt.
I have to admit, I hated him a little today. But I also love his full body approach. But when he tells me to do sumo squats with a 15-pound dumbbell and my toes pointed out AND make sure my knees “follow” my toes… I don’t know whether to cry or punch him.
It’s the gym— both those feelings are valid.
But let’s examine the issue. My knees face in.
This means to perform the motion he has requested, I need to move one foot at a time carefully into position. I need to really concentrate on balance. As I move, I need to keep my head up, focus on stretching the knees to position in line with my toes (which is not the way they go) while holding a weight and trying not to fall.
I was dripping sweat by the end of this session— before he hands me a kettle bell to end the work out with kettle bells swings.
When I got home, I made a massive high protein vegan pasta. See me make it here (this can also be my official “before” video.)
I ate 90% vegan today. Only animal products I had were half and half for my coffee and a pack of beef jerky at work. I almost had iced tea with local honey but the teenager spilled it when I left it on the dog crate.
This was dinner:
Speaking of dinner— tonight at the Bizzy Hizzy my team competed in the Stitch Fix olympics. We won the gold medal in the egg toss. I was relieved they weren’t real eggs.
In other news:
I almost started editing William Prystauk’s latest novel in the Kink Noir series.
My Poppy Z. Brite books have arrived.
I hurt. I hope it’s the good hurt.
My friend Joan not only brought us old linens, but scored a cat carrier and animal crate at a yard sale.
Greetings and good morning. When I was at the doctor last week, one of the questions he asked me during my mental health screening was if I was overspending or shopping more than usual.
I bought myself some fun tee-shirts for the gym. I subscribed to a self-care planner service (silk & sonder). And I’ve been trying out online meal/grocery services.
I tried Hello Fresh in June. Loved the quality, the recipes, the process. But they are expensive and I found it stressful to have to make the meals in a timely fashion.
I thought having the meals almost ready to go would make it easier to prepare them. Instead it pressured me to carve out time to make them.
I have heard Every Plate is the same as the Hello Fresh model but cheaper. Meals don’t look as fancy but they are very similar. From the web site anyway.
The convenience factor of these meal/grocery services makes them more expensive than going to the grocery store, but in my chaotic life, I’m finding myself depleting the nutrient dense foods and then slipping into bad habits instead of going to the store.
A lot of this is lack of time. That, in my opinion, is caused my poor planning.
So two weeks ago I placed a Hungryroot order, using their grocery option versus the meal option. I wanted to try foods I normally wouldn’t splurge on (Lightlife smoked tempeh) and get some proteins into the house now that I am strength training again.
For about $60, this is what I got:First Hungryroot Unboxing (The unidentified beige patties were the salmon burgers.)
I also have an urge to try Purple Carrot and their high protein menu. Without discounts that would be about $75/week for three two-serving meals. They also have prepared meals. Depending on the cost, I could try those for my work dinners.
But, as usual, I digress. This is supposed to be my review of Hungryroot. I tried Hungryroot because my neighbor was using the service and she fed me the items she didn’t like. I like some of the weird stuff.
Last night, lamenting the fact that I hadn’t had a real vegetable in a couple days and I was eating an uncrustable for dinner, I placed a second Hungryroot order.
This time, I ordered two meals and groceries. The scallop tacos — how can I resist that — and spinach artichoke tuna melt. I also got some tofu and some chicken bruschetta patties.
This box is supposed to arrive Saturday, so I should be here to open it.
Thoughts on my first HungryrootShipment
The first thing I opened was the Lightlife Smoked Tempeh, which I have always wanted to try. I was a vegetarian for about eight years and even spent six months as a vegan in the days 20+ years ago when you had to buy plant milk in cases from the natural food store. So l love to hear contemporary vegans talk about how hard it is to find a good coffee creamer. I used to drink rice milk. Anyway, I sautéed that tempeh up, smeared a hearty dose of Hungryroot’s lemon tahini on some 12-grain bread from my local Lidl and added a deli fresh slice of pickle and romaine lettuce. It was exactly what I was cravingbut got the anticipated “I don’t like it” from the teenager. I also used the tahini on a turkey sandwich and think it would make amazing hummus.
I opened Hungryroot’s cashew cheddar, another item I wanted to try since my old vegan days. I dipped it on some sort of snack food and more or less liked it. Again, the teenager labeled it weird. I wanted to make a dish with the remaining tempeh, the cashew cheddar, some sort of grain or noodle and maybe peas and kale. You also need to take the teenager’s input with this knowledge: her favorite food groups are bacon and fruit. She is the reason I am no longer a vegetarian.
We both enjoyed the salmon burgers. I served them on romaine with avocado, because we didn’t have buns. Did I love them? No. I found them boring. Would I eat them? Yes. Would I order them again? Not sure.
We both enjoyed the Chile limon chicken. I made a Mexican inspired tater tot casserole out of it. And I think I made chicken tacos too.
The free protein was pork canitas. I have not tried that yet. I put the beef tips in the freezer. I have yet to try the chickpea curry.
I devoured the cucumber black bean salad. The teenager, again, did not like it.
I honestly can’t recall if there was anything else… I don’t think so. I’ll be sure to do another unboxing when the new box arrives.
Today marked my first lower body work out with Dan at Apex. I did something I rarely do and wore a little tennis style athletic skirt to the gym. I don’t like wearing shorts. There are two reasons why.
1. I honestly don’t like my flesh touching various surfaces: hot car leather, wooden chairs, the concrete if I sit on my steps, of course “thigh rub.” You get it.
2. But I also don’t like to see my lower body in motion. It’s a visual reminder of my physical issues.
So exposing my legs to a relative stranger was a way of me making myself vulnerable. But if Dan is going to monitor and critique my form, he can see my knees.
Lower body. I was so… not anxious, not scared. Maybe trepidation? We did pretty standard upper body exercises. Easy starting point. Dumbbells. I was happy with it. Very happy. (See more here.)
Dan brought his six-month-old son. What a happy, charming, beautiful baby. He didn’t mind seeing my knees.
And right away, Dan put me at ease. I’m impressed by the depth of his knowledge— my physical therapists have explained the same info to me so I know he’s done his homework on normal physiology.
Our exercises yesterday included a supported squat using some overhead ropes (that was amazing! I felt like I could move like a normal person. I could have done that all day.); some mild lifts with a plate that was like a full body deadlift, slowing stretching out the whole self; and some squats with a resistance band moving up and down from a bench. Many of these movements required great concentration on my part but I knew from past physical therapy that he was nailing it.
He apologized for not working me harder but he wants to focus on getting everything moving and flexible again so I don’t get hurt.
That isexactly what I need right now. I shouldn’t be working out hard. I just want to establish the habit, get my metabolism working again, and oil the machine, so to speak. I am so thrilled. Giddy.
And I walked slowly home with no falls.
As my rest period at home, I finally wrote the solicitation letter for FURR’s Coffee and Kittens pop-up cat café August 15 at Forks Community Center. The organization is working hard, my former employee and friend Janel and I are brainstorming away and reaching out to potential sponsors.
I hope to have FURR volunteers give five minute talks or demonstrations on various cat topics: TNR, basic cat care, how much cats can reproduce, declawing and cat scratching behavior, working with hissy spitties, cat body language, trimming nails, seniors for seniors, why kittens aren’t easy.
Activities will include live kittens in play pens to cuddle, cat story time (I will read cat stories), and musical chairs with cat-themed music. We hope to have some raffles— the chance to name some kittens, hopefully some prizes. And cat merchandise for sale.
My daughter and I used to binge-watch the reboot of Queer Eye on Netflix— she loved the home makeovers, Bobby’s energy and style; we both loved Antoni and the food. Tan was adorable. And Jonathon is just a lovable force. And then there was Karamo, orchestrating something not quite identifiable as “culture expert.”
When his memoir, Karamo: My Story of Embracing Purpose, Healing & Hope came out (pun?) in 2019, Karamo Brown visited Lafayette College. The teenager’s father had him autograph a book for her and we excitedly attended a public lecture he gave on campus that night.
Almost two full years later, I finally finished the book.
I have recently resumed reading in general so the fault does not lie with Karamo.
The book is light, simple in phrase, and mimics Karamo’s speech.
It’s a coming of age story. It’s the experience of a Black gay man, son of immigrant parents, struggling to find himself, share his voice and help people.
He has handled so many situations others know well— issues of addiction, relationships, family, sex, parenting. He spent so long yearning to reach out into the world that he nearly self-destructed in the process.
He’s very respectful of other people, only talking about himself— not violating the privacy of his kids, his extended family or fiancé. He doesn’t share glorifying tales of his wild boy days, focusing instead of why he was behaving that way and what he learned.
He structures the chapters not chronologically but thematically which makes it easy to understand the building blocks of who he is and how he came to be.
And even before George Floyd and #BlackLivesMatter, he begged us as a society to listen to each other and be kind.
As I mentioned last week, neighborhood events coincided with the teenager’s pet sitting commitments to have us at full capacity with dogs— except for Buddy who at the last minute got to go on vacation with his family.
Little Dog Sobaka’s mom left for a wedding in Western Pa., allowing me the time to teach Sobaka that Bean might be scary but she’s really just a big, dumb puppy and not a threat.
And the teenager decided to test Sobaka’s ingenuity and made her eat her nightly supper from a dog puzzle. Bean would have just eaten the puzzle.
On Friday night, Baki and I slept in my bed with Louise and Khloe hiding under the bed. On Saturday, the teenager left for her housesitting job, so I planned a sleepover in the living room—Baki and I in the hand-me-down pull-out couch bed and Bean in her downstairs crate.
Bean and Sobaka
The clientele for the week includes 2 dogs (one geriatric German shepherd with mobility struggles), two personal cats, one Senegal parrot and at least eight foster kittens who all need meds.
My daughter is a very special pet sitter. I have heard horrible stories and witnessed some of friends hiring people to care for their pets and these people neglect their wards. When my daughter accepts a job, her focus becomes that household and my job is to make sure I maintain standards at home. She spends a lot of time doting on animals.
The clientele for the week
I provide back up and moral support and make sure the pet sitter doesn’t live on diet soda and chips for the week. She usually has me over to the home once or twice so I know the basics should she need to leave or needs help.
Last night the “can you come see if the cat likes you better than he likes me” request ended up being a three hour visit because she wanted me to shoot video of how well the German Shepherd was doing to set the family at ease.
And a little after 8 pm, I announced I was going home to make supper.
“I forgot the food you told me to take,” the child says.
It’s almost 8:30 on a Sunday night in the town where her father grew up and not our own— the mom and pop places are closing up and I don’t have the time or patience for a sit down meal.
We find Tuscana Pizza & Pasta. The first thing I see when I walk in the door is empanadas. There are seven slices of pizza on the counter, a pile of garlic knots and the empanadas.
There are three slices of pepperoni, one plain, two sausage and peppers and one meat lovers.
We take one of each and some garlic knots. $16.47.
They start speaking Spanish to each other at the register. When everything gets done, they take it out of the oven, throw it in a large pizza box, hand it to us and tell us goodbye.
Obviously they were trying to close the restaurant and didn’t want us hanging around.
We were okay with that. We ate in the car.
The sausage and pepper slice was really good, but I don’t like onions so I could only make it through half. The garlic knots were soft— I’m used to them being like chunks of pizza crust but these were like dinner rolls smothered in butter and garlic.
I love neighborhood pizza shops. I love the ambiance. I love them simple. I wish they’d stop trying to be full fledged restaurants and push slices and pies and sugary concoctions like the mysterious red “jungle juice” of my youth and arcade games and pinball.
My daughter— who has apparently spent far too much time in town ordering Dominos or grabbing Little Caesars and eating it four hours later “like a ravenous beast” (her words) on the band bus— always acts like every time we have real pizza, it’s the first time and it’s the best food she’s every had in her life. She moans with every mouthful.
I’m not even remotely a Tom Cruise fan, but Meeting Tom Cruise is one of the most stupidly entertaining podcasts I have ever mindlessly listened to at work.
This particular episode has been on my Spotify “Bizzy work flow” playlist since it came out— but I apparently didn’t recognize Marc Blucas’ name or I would have listened sooner.
Why should I recognize the name? Why would I have listened? Because Marc Blucas played Riley Finn on the television version of Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Riley was Buffy’s college boyfriend. I didn’t care for him much at the time (season four of Buffy that is) and then later watching the series with my husband and barely school-aged child.
Riley was All-American, tall, athletic, a psychology grad student and secret army hero hunting demons, which in the Buffyverse made him boring.
So when he appeared on this podcast I listened as a nod to my Buffy fandom days but did not expect to be impress.
He turned out to be a gifted story teller who has lived, as he humbly said, a “charmed life.” Marc grew up in western Pennsylvania in a small town where he got a basketball scholarship to I believe Wake Forest. He had a scholarship to go to law school but after making something like the final four division one shooting challenge he got recruited to play professional hoops in Europe.
Hall of Fame basketball player Tim Duncan was the best man at his wedding.
He had a business with Dale Earnhardt.
He landed a role sinking the three point shots in Pleasantville (another favorite of mine) and worked on First Daughter with Katie Holmes and then got cast in Knight and Day with Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz.
I don’t think he ever made it to law school but he certainly returned to his roots on a 15-acre farm in Pennsylvania, complete with 300-year-old farmhouse.
I realize now that the various people telling their individual stories is what fascinates me about this podcast.
This post is dedicated to my work friend Barb who starts her new job on Monday. I miss her, but I am so grateful to have met her that I can only wish her well and be proud of her.
Today was a pretty great day.
Well, it’s 10 minutes after midnight so I guess yesterday was a great day.
We were supposed to host three dogs this weekend, Buddy the super lovable white dog next door; Sobaka, the “Morkie” or Maltese Yorkie from across the street; and of course, Bean, our own big black mutt.
Sobaka arrived at 9, with the teenager getting her settled and then the teen returned to bed. I woke to a text message that Buddy would not be joining us after all, as his owner decided to bring him to Maine with her at the last minute.
We are very disappointed as Buddy is the dog medium enough to be a good companion for Sobaka.
The teenager has a pet sitting gig starting tomorrow (I mean in a few hours— I keep forgetting it’s the middle of the night). She will be sleeping at the home of another crazy cat lady… I mean fellow FURR foster mom.
The teenager will be watching two dogs, one very elderly; one small parrot, two personal cats and probably a dozen kittens. And a series of gardens.
It was another super flipping hot day, so I was glad I decided to bake the teenager’s “first day of summer” applesauce cake after work last night.
And I went to work today with no pain in my body!
Speaking of the Bizzy Hizzy, Stitch Fix offered us voluntary time off tonight if we reached our weekly shipping goal. We would be allowed to work a half day. So we got the job done in 3.5 hours and did a little extra.
Conveyor to OB1
I was style carding tonight— I still haven’t asked my supervisors how I’m doing. I’ve been enjoying it and it’s probably the least physically abusive work center I’ve learned.
I’ve been at Stitch Fix nine months, and my fascination with our warehouse logistics grows more with every new station I learn.
It’s hard to believe I’ll get another raise in three months.
But here’s my philosophical thought: Nothing creates a sense of deep teamwork better than people who all understand each other’s jobs and work together to achieve a mutually beneficial goal. It’s not enough to agree to a corporate goal or non profit mission. We may all have low-skill light-warehousing jobs but we all wanted to get the heck out of that hot building.
I compare my experience here with a previous (or several previous) employer(s):
At Stitch Fix, my bosses don’t punish, guilt trip or manipulate me regarding time off.
At Stitch Fix (and also at Target), they provide the training and the safety guidelines and trust us to work autonomously.
At Stitch Fix, I bring home the same amount in my paycheck as when I worked higher stress jobs.
I feel like on nights like this, our understanding of how the numbers work and also how we all normally perform allow us to know how attainable these goals are. And that’s exciting in a “we can do this” way.
Is the job perfect? No. I’m perfectly aware that I am a cog in a very big wheel and sweating my ass off folding clothes or putting papers in envelopes.
But I have had some awful bosses. It’s sad how bad managers can be not only blind to their own flaws but assume weaknesses in others where they don’t exist.
This is a topic I could write a book about.
ANYWAY.
Through most of this literally painless half-day, I listened to the Marc Blucas interview on the podcast Meeting Tom Cruise. He was Buffy the Vampire Slayer’s boyfriend Riley Finn. I hope to do a full review of it.
And the we finally stopped at The Spot for ice cream. The teenager drove me to work so I bought her a banana milkshake and I had a root beer float. Next time I want salted caramel soft serve with Reese’s peanut butter cups. The soft serve was delightful, the menu varied, and the prices cheap. Only downfall was the multitude of styrofoam.
The Spot Drive In
Upon arriving home (after stopping to get my business cards from Gayle and I had to give her an A6 envelope box I commissioned her to doodle), we walked the dogs, ate some leftovers and watched an episode of Buffy (Doomed if you are curious).
I was cracking up on the walk because Sobaka liked to lead the pack. Well, Bean would speed up to join her because she didn’t want to be left behind. She wanted to walk side by side with Baktilda. (Yes, these are all nicknames for Sobaka.)
So then Sobaka would walk faster, but Baki has tiny legs. Bean would just keep matching her pace without breaking her stride. Baki was like the horse trainer who guides the horse around the ring and sets the pace.
Finally, the real miracle of the night— Louise is sharing her space with the dog. My bed no less! Is she making progress or can she not figure out what kind of animal Sobaka is?
Today I woke up at 8:30 a.m., before my alarm, ready to start the laundry, unload the dishwasher and check on my split pea soup. I had my initial meet-and-greet, evaluation session with my new local, small business fitness trainer at 11 a.m.
At 10:30, I went down to the basement to get the linen wash and hang it on the line.
Oz, the big, scared and stupid cat bolted through my legs and out the door. In his mind, he was going to go eat some grass and relax in the sun.
Except the dog saw him escape. So he ran around the house and into our neighbors yard where our other neighbors were breaking up cement manually.
I was focused on catching the dog and they were very keen to tell me there was also a cat. I knew that cat would be sitting and waiting at my neighbor’s back door.
I catch the dog and clip her to the neighbor’s tie and turn my attention toward retrieving my daughter’s cat.
Grab the cat while the dog yowls in confusion. Toss him in the house, grab the dog’s leash, walk the dog across our small yard, and then watch her corner Oz and jump through the open window to chase him around the house while still wearing her leash.
By the time I crated her, I was already dripping with sweat.
And I barely had time to eat (after all, the wet laundry is in the basket in the yard) so I spoon some of my current favorite Cabot cottage cheese into my mouth and grab a pack of salt and vinegar almonds (both from the Grocery Outlet, of course) and an unopened bottle of plain seltzer.
I walk the five blocks to the trainer’s gym.
He’s practicing his golf swing when I arrive. He knows my name. We chat. My seltzer explodes all over but I manage to minimize the disaster. His name is Dan. He has an infant. And dogs. Both trainers have kids and dogs.
He has similar problem areas in his hips and back from an accident. He gives me the usual rundown— we’ll start slow so we can build a foundation, results take time. We talk more. I tell him my most recent experiences with strength training/weight loss/anemia. I show him pictures of ripped, underweight me five years ago.
“So you know what you’re doing,” he says.
“I do, but I need someone to watch my form so I don’t hurt myself and motivate me as I’m still struggling with the emotional repercussions of a really bad work experience.”
“I can give you some guidance and a kick in the butt,” he says.
“That is what I need,” I reply.
I tell him my hopes: I want to start with light workouts to develop the habit and rebuild my energy as I recover from anemia-related fatigue. Then, we focus on full body weight training at so I can be as strong as the woman in the picture, but I don’t care what the scale says. And maybe we’ll work toward running a 5K. And if the relationship works out, I might pursue my dream of a bodybuilding hobby. Not competitive. Just for myself.
I think I saw him visibly relax. He liked that I understood what realistic expectations are and that I want to put in the work long term.
He gives me weights. He increases them after the first set of shoulder presses. He mentions that we’ll be able to capitalize on my muscle memory and that I have pretty good form.
I explained my lower body issues, and we did some body weight squats. He seemed pleased with my form and my concentration.
We talked about different things we could do, and he evaluated me in several exercises including one compound set I really liked, best described as moving from a sumo squat (with dumbbells) to a bicep curl using the hips instead of the back and finishing with a shoulder press. It loosened all sorts of muscle groups.
I felt invincible.
He explained that he would use this observation and discussion to build my program as he didn’t design anything until he met the client. I chuckled.
Angel Ackerman 