This Movement and Sweat

I slap my alarm off and sit up with a sigh. It's not even a matter of debate. I pull on my workout clothes and flex my neck and spine in an attempt to limber up my creaking body. The cats try to sit near and underneath me in hopes of morning snuggles. I give them quick strokes, but I won't linger. I grab my water bottle and go.

I rouse the little girl, hand her a cup of milk, diaper and dress her. I coax tangles out of her hair and hair clips, in, stuff some breakfast into her and myself, and off we go into the admittedly late morning.

I walk into the fitness center just a little late. I have little more than an hour before the nursery closes for break. I wave my membership card at the scanner and wait for the beep before crossing the rest of the lobby with the little girl running along side. She runs as lightly and smoothly as I would wish to. But she is merely two and has loads of energy, while I am *mumble-mumble* and need to heave myself forward in the mornings.

The little girl scampers into the nursery and smiles at a young woman with long dark curly hair, her favorite caretaker. She warily notes other children, then starts forward again to investigate a new toy. I sign her in, plop down her bag, and slide back out the door. "Bye, Sweetie! I'll see you later! Have fun!" On a good day, she doesn't even notice I am leaving.

I pause in the hallway to shed outer layers, clip on my ipod with music cued up, and apply a generous layer of lip balm (to my lips) before heading up to the mezzanine, taking the stairs two at a time.

A wave of white noise hits me as I heft open the heavy door. It's the rattle and hiss of piped-in dance music, the thump of feet on treadmills, and the squeal, beep and clank of machines in action, with the occasional ringing of loose weights being dropped at the far end of the hall. I pause to top off my water bottle, scan the rows of exercise machines and quickly locate one of my two favorite machines. I hop on, place water bottle and towel conveniently, and press a few pad keys to select the preprogrammed workout and time for the day. Sometimes it asks for my age or weight. I don't bother too closely with specifics. I key in the basics with good humor, and I am off and running. Or at least moving, since I don't really run.

Some days I like to do a long program on the treadmill, much of it uphill as if I were carrying a backpack up a steep grade. Lots of good sweat trance there. My mind drifts to epic hikes I've done. Some days I do twenty minutes working up a sweat on the treadmill, then shift to an elliptical machine for some "sport intervals" for a while. Figure skaters practice leaps and glides below, or it's hockey time and young men (or little boys) race and putter around the ice. Some days all I stare at is the advertising on the opposite wall - Even the refs can see this is a good meal deal! - or the lights of the readout telling me beep! It's the next ninety seconds at incline 7.5 !

Recently, I've been doing faux runs on the elliptical. I key in ten minutes of rolling hills at a medium-high resistance and start moving. My heart rate gradually climbs to the target zone and stays there. I love the hand grips that gives me a HR reading in progress. A cool 135 is nice, something in the mid-140s feels good too. Then I switch to twenty minutes of running up and down a tall mountain. My HR climbs and my pace gradually slows, but I'm grooving steadily with another song in my ears. Every so often, I squat as I run for 15 seconds of quad killers. Straightening my legs after a quad killer is a sweet relief to the muscles. Other times, I'll lift my whole foot on the uphills to give my toes a break. I check in with my heart rate every few minutes, sometimes dropping or adding resistance to keep me within sight of an efficient range. Then without pause, I'll add another ten minutes of rolling hills at whatever level of resistance I'm in the mood for, then cool down for a couple, letting my heart rate slow as sweat drips off my hair.

It feels good to get my body moving, to go into an endorphin trance. I'm glad for the tunes in my ears that keep me awake and on pace, although if I haven't gotten much sleep, it's more of a sleep-jog.

I used to feel a little self conscious about going to work out, until my husband reminded me that most people are caught up in their own world and can't be bothered to observe me. I choose to believe that's true, but still, I often go to the front row of machines so I can see the ice skaters instead of being distracted by other people or the silent bank of TVs overhead.

I let the workout summary run as I mop off and pull on the water bottle. I get a kick out of racking up the numbers. 1.6 miles and approximately 192 calories burned. x minutes in my target heart range, and a maximum HR of 210. What?! Well, sometimes the monitor gives me unreasonably high or low readings. I know those are outliers.

I step off, stretch briefly, and retrieve a sani-wipe to wipe down the machine. I could have kept going, but time is a-wasting and the weight machines are calling me.

I was doing long sets of low weight for several months, then I got bored of that, and moved toward shorter sets of higher weights to maximize my time before I'm due to pick up my daughter.

"3" for seat length, "3" for shin cushion angle, and something near "1" for the starting angle. I clank into gear. Two sets of 8 reps at twenty pounds for the quads! Okay! Then the hamstrings! Then go for the squats - better throw in an extra set, there, then my new fav, the abductors and inductors. When I get a chance, I'll hop over to the abdominals and upper body weights. Some guy is tearing through his sets with great grunting and wheezing. A couple of elderly women are being given coaching by a personal trainer, and another couple of people are trading the machines back and forth with me.

I've got a little more time, so now over for some chest presses and killer flys. I throw in a couple sets of incline/decline presses which gets my core muscles involved. Wheee! I rarely have time to do chin ups or the leg press, but it's a nice variation. A small pack of men are making much ado about their workout. But today I am running short, so I skip the lats and go to the upright rower. The seat is still slightly damp from the previous users wipe-down. I take over a mat for a couple of sun salutations, enjoying the feeling of my body doing its thing.

Annnd now it's five til, and I grab my bag and walk the length of the hall in a pleasantly weary forward-motion, past the people still running, walking or cycling. The retired gentleman who I often see there waves as I pass him on the treadmill.

I'm grateful that I am able to enjoy this movement and sweat. And then I go down to hear Mommy! Mommy! I had fun! I had fun too. And now it's time for hand washing. The little girl runs lap after lap around the broad changing room bench, and then dances through the lobby and out through the doors into the day.
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Imagine what you could do with it!

I witness the power and elasticity of imagination daily.

The spent glow stick has been part of a necklace, a fishing pole, a fiddle bow sawing at her arm, a drumstick, a straw for her doll's juice, and more.

The magnetic letters that I spent months tracking down are mostly played as "sandwiches" that the little girl stacks and leaves as offerings around the table. Sometimes she serves her animals at the small table. Mister Fish the bath toy and the tiny glow-in-the-dark ducks become "trout pasta" and "spaghetti" when carried in small cups, and she serves them as well.

Her pile of animals and dolls take on new personalities to act out favorite scenarios from familiar stories. Monkey is now called "Moose" and eats food or visits Beaver in his house. At the playground, one area is always "Beaver's house," and another area is always "Mommy's house." Moose, rabbit and squirrel always visit.

Her doll "Dee" frequently falls to the ground like Little Bear's friend's doll, "breaking her arm," Oh! oh! , necessitating "taping" and snuggles. The "tape" may be an empty spool of thread or a hair clip. Whatever can be made to stand in the dramatization of the moment. And the little girl's toys are all actors on that stage, as beloved as any highly-designed-and-crafted plaything.

Following that thought, I'm realizing that highly realistic toys can be quite cleverly done, but they can end up jumping ahead in the creative process by filling in what could be, would be the child's part in the play. You could make an analogous parallel between reading a story in a book and seeing a story in a movie. The brain is not required to fill in the extra sensory details, so it just ... doesn't. Thus those neural pathways don't get as much of a workout.

So why short-circuit the leap of imagination by filling in all the details? Don't we need to leave something creative for her to, well, create? What's the fun in merely filling in the blanks?

My husband thinks that the more abstract the toy the better. He's disappointed that I found a toy camera at the consignment shop. He's afraid that it will push out the hinged-triangle-shape baby teether that has been her "camera" for years. But I'm not sure we could keep her from leaping ahead of the mere reality in front of her. Even the most mundane and boring/exciting objects are pressed into service of the story at hand. This evening she was "serving" chalk sticks to "Moose." It might have been "Birthday soup."

Meanwhile, back amongst the random bits of junk, I mean, toys on my kitchen floor, I realize, yes, those are not really useless items but the raw materials for all sorts of crazy and amazing toddler stories.

I bought her a children's large magnifying glass in the guise of a snake. It's a cool toy, no doubt, but you know what the little girl calls it? A banjo. That's right - my daughter plays at being a musician. The play kitchen spatula is a trumpet - you knew that, right? But the harmonica? That's just a harmonka. Just call her Short Girl Jones. I'll let you know when she goes on tour.
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Pulling Back & Rushing Forward - NaBloPoMo 2011

Life has been pulling me away from the digital world these last few months.

An artist I know once ended a post on Facebook by exclaiming impatiently: "I'm wasting time here. I should be working on my art." She's too busy with doing to spend much time on observing or being entertained.

These last few months, I've been focusing on the "doing" of my life and letting the swirl of the digital world sink back out of focus. I've been wanting to focus on the doing without bothering to document it.

Adding to the complexity of digital balance is the new presence of Google+ and learning to negotiate the tangle of my online identities and projects. I still haven't figured out how to log into this blog without logging out from the other account.

But this being NaBloPoMo month, I'm drawn back. Of course, I have to post! At least as long as I have internet access.

Some goals and ideas:

Steady work on a separate writing project.

Documenting more of the things my daughter says and does. It's an endless stream of real life entertainment.

Finishing overhauling my masthead.

Any questions? I'll take any questions as blog fodder, so now's your chance.

Onward to November and daily writing!
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ten good things - MidSummer edition

1. Tailored polo shirts in great colors.

2. Building another kick-ass dance program, riding that wave of performance, and getting appreciated for it.

3. Young friend learning German and inspiring me to revive my own knowledge. Die desutche Sprache habe ich sehr gern. Die italianisch, auch... :)

4. Hanging out with new young friends who I've finally gotten to know.

5. Deviously creative associations to help me remember names.

6. Colleagues who are friendly and persistent at interacting with my small child.

7. Getting myself a gym membership. Oo, interval programs!

8. Miniature sunflower varieties cheerfully blooming despite the drought.

9. Another awesome haircut by my talented hairstylist. It looks great even when it's still damp.

10. Patriotic music at Fourth of July parades. *sniffle sniffle*

Bonus: The little girl talk, talk, talking.

Reclaiming It Inch By Inch

I've been very engrossed in my yard and garden since Winter/early Spring when we've had some areas cleared out. I finally feel I can make a difference in the jungle that tries to creep up and swallow everything.

I've been using my FlyLady techniques of working in small increments of time, and it's made a huge difference. Every week, I spend, say, five minutes weeding around the edge of the driveway, ten minutes weeding and picking up branches, another 15 cutting up old brush or pruning the next shrub in line or reviving the plantings around the patio, or whatever area I'm focusing on.

I and my husband both have been astounded/delighted at the the changes. Those little bits here and there are piling up into significant change, and my vision for the space is taking shape. So it's no wonder that every day and every week, I'm eager to go out and make more progress.

Yesterday I:

Spent about four hours working.
Filled our yard waster container plus three extra bags with vines and debris.
Weeded more ivy back beside the driveway.
Weeded more ivy back near the fence.
Took down some dried vines from a tree.
Weeded around an old fence fragment in prep for it being dismantled.
Cut large vine roots and yanked up as much as I could.
Weed-whacked around the fig trees and the back fence.
Yanked more vines and ivy from around some existing daffodils and day lilies.
Inspected the volunteer plum that has real green fruit starting.
Threw out random pieces of archeological trash.
And cleared space to dig a hole in prep for one of the new hydrangeas.

Among other things.

In the front yard, I've enacted numerous small jobs over several weeks, such as:

Transplanted the daffodils that are in the wrong place, and replanted them with the others, and dividing them while I was at it.
Planted some small bulb iris out near the street where they'll look pretty for passer-byers.
Planted bulb iris in some of the front gardens to fill in gaps.
Raked and reseeded swaths of the front yard.
Added mulch around the sugarberry/hackberry tree.
Yanked out small springs of poison ivy.
Planted a couple bunches of Purple Tongue plant.
Weeded around the front gardens.
Added more compost to the front vegetable gardens, and planted various tomatoes (heirloom, plum, cherry) and herbs (lemon verbena, thyme, basil, lavender) and some marigolds near the tomatoes.
Planted more lavender in the porch garden.
Planted snapdragons for annual color.
Started to prune the Japanese maple that are started to gangle all over the front beds like lanky adolescents.
Mulch, mulch, mulched.

And that's not even considering the side yard!

But in the backyard, I'm really getting going.

I've been plotting out the space for new fruit trees (slowly replenishing the yard from its early years), ripping up ivy or other vines from its forays into relatively pristine lawn, and getting ready to put in some raised beds for new vegetable gardens.

The raised beds will run parallel to but five feet away from the side fence that we share with our neighbors. It's in one of the few still sunny areas on our property, so I'm excited about making attractive use of it with both vegetables and flower plantings.

In a related area, I'll add on to existing flower plantings to create a more substantial visual point. In another area of the side yard, I'm going to add some attractive flowering shrubbery to make visual peace with our neighbors - I know they are tired of looking at our junky side yard, and we could use more pretty screening greenery. I might mulch along the fence line or not. I certainly want to reseed the lawn in the areas previously covered by the huge bales of honeysuckle, grapevine, and other vines.

Our neighbors have been undertaking their own progression. They've started a terraced patio behind their house, had a beautiful fence put up along the back of the property, killed off their entire backyard lawn with R0undup and just this week, reseeded. Makes my wincing use of herbicide look rather puny, huh?

And of course, all this fervent activity is not without its side results. Every other workday, I pull a tick or two off of myself. I get bitten, scratched, sprayed with dirt from recaltrient roots, and end up with twigs and inchwords in my hair if I'm ducking under branches. Various chiggers take up residence under my clothes, and I come in with too much sun, or itchy reactions on my face or arms. Oo, and I have an allergic reaction to poison ivy. Yes, it's official now. I have prescriptions, yo.

But I'm also getting a terrific workout! I pull, I sweat, I drag and hack. My upper body especially enjoys this, but my legs get into the act too. Today, I'm stiff all over from my four hours of sustained work. Oh, and I am able to fit into some of my pre-pregnancy jeans now. Also, my bicepts have apparently been replaced by painful rocks. That's all thanks to all my ivy-pulling.

It reminds me of backpacking; even when one is tired, one keeps going and going and going at a slow but manageable yet steady pace. And at the end of this sweatiness, I've cleared more space, or neatened another patch of ground, or spruced up another overgrown shrub. You know that song "inch by inch"? I'm living it. Another few inches, another section of ground looking happier.

Can't wait to build those beds and put in some Summer vegetables. Can't wait for it to start looking like a proper happy yard again.
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ten good things - May edition

Yes, it's May! Yippee! And I have at least ten good things to share, I'm sure of it.

1. strawberry season Freshly picked, nom nom, piled with angle food cake, ice cream and whipped cream for dinner - need I say more?

2. the little girl sleeping through the cats' nightly rackets

3. friendly neighbors and their children

4. snapdragons in rosy and pale colors

5. regular rain! Drought, drought, go away.

6. fresh rhubarb to go with the strawberries

7. the 50% coupon my sister gave me to buy fruit trees

8. organizers, callers and dancers who feed my interest in calling squares

9. rereading the Clan of the Cave Bear series Only twenty or thirty years or so after the first time.

10. playing with new accessory combinations whee!

Bonus: Little girl trying to sing along with Beatles songs. She loves you, yeahyeahyeah, we all live in a yellow submarine.

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Fighting the Equivalent Evil

So I've been throwing myself at the yard this Winter and Spring. We had some people come and hack back limbs and brush on more than one occasion, and those portions are looking amazingly better. And as often happens, I'm inspired to tweak the upkeep.

Most recently, we had the side yard and fence line hacked back. Wow! We actually have a back yard! And now we have space to plant more fruit trees - hehe. This is part of my long-term yard revitalization, bringing it back from years of tangled neglect into a more usable space.

And although we've already dropped gobs of money on house renovations and yard reworkings this year, we are excited about the space. I've even gotten my husband excited about planting some raised garden beds for vegetables in back. That's in addition to the fruit trees I'm putting in shortly.

Anyhoo, it's been lovely and invigorating going out to rip up vines and clear brush every other evening, and watching old plantings gain more space. But in the process, I've been seeing other things start to grow. Things like... poison ivy. Ugh. It sends out its little rootlings everywhere and anytime it sees an opening, zammo - it pops out a few leaves and starts growing like heck. Urk. Like, growing all over the back! Ack! Ack!

Now, plain old ivy does not bother me. I can rip it up along with the other five or six named and unnamed vines infesting my lawn and trees and shrubbery and anything not moving fast enough. But poison ivy? Nonono. That stuff is eeeeviiiilllll.

I had been keeping ahead of most of it with daily weedings (bag over the hand technique), but the recent rains have given the stuff real legs. And it was popping up in swaths. Swaths! Sadly, that is not an exaggeration. All over the middle of the back yard, mind you!

I thought to myself that if we didn't get ahead of it, it was going to literally take over the back yard to the point to not being able to walk to the fig trees, and I couldn't bear it.

So then I was thinking to myself - I hate the heavy duty herbicides, but that's exactly what we need to knock the stuff back. I refuse to acquiesce to this horrible stuff just as we are regaining our yard.

I finally found some kind of lawn herbicide was wasn't going to immediately kill me, and said, okayokay, I can do this. I've got the long pants and the long-sleeved shirt and the gloves and all.

This evening I went out while the light was still good and zapped every sprig I could lay my eyes on. Which was a lot. In fact, I was finding large leaves of it in places I hadn't even seen it before. Ugh! So I kept going and kept going, and the bottle started running a little low. I thought, well, I'll use up as much of it as I can tonight! And I was trying to not step on the evil stuff as I was spraying, and trying to not step in the evil stuff I'd already sprayed and trying to not think too hard about the drips soaking into my gloves, and the exposure I might be getting. At least it did not stink.

I got about three-quarters of the way around, and I said Okay That is Enough! And I wrapped up the bottle and threw it out and went in to wash the darn gloves and then strip and stuff my clothing into the washer. And tell my husband that the little girl is not allowed in the back yard for a week, at least, although the spray is supposed to dry to rain-proof within hours. I just can't stand the idea of the wee one tromping through it. In fact, maybe she can stay out of the back yard until this whole mess is over. Like, maybe, June.

I thought I felt a little lump in my throat, and I guzzled lots of water to help flush out random toxins. It's ugly stuff, but I think the poison ivy is worse. And if anybody wants to argue with me about how horrible the toxins are that are capable of killing the stuff, why yes, I do agree, and I'd like to invite you to come over every other day and pull it up for me by hand instead!

I can't wait to see that nasty stuff shrivel up and die. And then I'll really get my yard back. I just may have to get some new gloves so I can get back to work.
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