Weights and Treadmills and Personal Trainers, Oh My!

(A re-post of a favourite of mine. Thanks for the indulgence.)

When I was in my twenties, the gym was a place to see and be seen. Sure, we went to work out, but at the time, it was more about how cute the boys looked in their muscle shirts, and how colour coordinated we were in our gym attire.

Now, my metabolism is on permanent vacation, and my body is telling me that it’s quite happy to lead the sedentary lifestyle. My mind is slightly mutinous and tends to side with my body, telling me that laying around isn’t such a bad thing, that it helps with cell regeneration and stuff.

However tempting that may sound, if I don’t fight the laziness, the ease of sinking into that perfect corner of the comfy couch, I’ll soon become a part of the furniture and Peter will never find me again, until I give him clues with general demands to bring me an iced cap from Timmy’s before Paradise Falls comes on.

And so I joined the gym. The day I signed away a year of my life I went in all proud and strong and a little too loud “I want to join the gym!” I think I was loud enough to squelch the inner screaming of my muscles, cringing in fear. I think I startled the girl behind the desk.

After getting my card, I asked for a training session and was told that I could meet with a trainer the following Thursday. I decided to use the treadmill until then, because all of the other machines look like bionic octopi or something. At the end of my 45 minutes, I thought “I can do this, it’s not so bad.” I kept visiting the treadmill until my appointment, thinking I was going to show that trainer, after I’d built up a week’s worth of cardio.

And that’s where it all went horribly, scarily wrong.

She is way too cute and perky. Her smile lights up the room, and she is as bouncy and energetic as a 6-month-old pup. I loved her and hated her on sight, and kind of wanted to rub her belly. But mostly, I hoped I could catch some of her vibe, so I could build up some excitement for the hell she was about to put me through.

And she did her best, smiling the whole time. Hell started with the legs, then went to the arms, the back, the abs, and, Lord help me, there’s a machine that helped me do my very first pull up. She ADDED it to my routine because she was so proud of me.

I felt like I kept up pretty well. I only sat the wrong direction on two machines, because her way just didn’t make sense. When I fight a bionic octopus, I want to be able to face it. The trainer won. I did it her way. And the octopus won.

I’ve got to go change now. I’ve got a harpoon and some chum, and a bionic octopus to conquer.

Daily Travels and Things I Saw

Seriously, I know our world isn’t quite this sad. Although both scenes depicted images that could be interpreted as distasteful, sacrilegious and possibly disrespectful, I leave it to you to decide.

Me? I thought totally hilarious on both counts. Gotta love the creativity of the human race.

 

Totally dig this ride. You can’t see the detail – and although the windows are scary black, as in – can’t-see-inside-so-there-might-actually-BE-a-body-in-there black, I’m pretty sure this is a non-servicing Hearse. The center of the hub caps sport some pretty sweet skulls that I am sure would sparkle in the sun had it not been hidden behind the clouds. I hope I get to see this Hearse when the owner has finished his vision. I would call Pimp My Ride for this bad boy – oh yes I would.

Now seriously – how can you NOT laugh at this? On the side of  an overpass in Smiths Falls. Hey, we know who will prevail in the end, but it’s nice to know someone is pulling for the pigeons.

People are Funny

You know easy it is to get to road rage, right? You don’t have to own a particularly nasty temper or a short fuse – you just have to, oh – I don’t know. . . drive a car. . . eventually, it will happen.

Say you’re driving on a country road, no cars anywhere. There’s a utility truck pulled off the side of the road about 50 yards ahead and a stoplight about 20 yards past him. All told, a pretty nice drive.

Until the utility truck decides he needs to get ahead of me at that red light and whips a u-turn to shoot in front of me and slam on his brakes. My purse flies off the seat and I curse in Disney language.

Since I am somewhat polite, I don’t do the clichéd finger-flipping and name calling and honking. Instead I shake my head while he watches me in his side mirror. I hope I am channelling the what-on-earth-did-that-get-you-buddy-I-am-so-disappointed-and-your-momma-would-be-too look. I continue to shake my head as he lumbers forward at the green light. And you know he’s lumbering, because really, what good would it do for it to be a fast truck that was worried about getting behind a little ol’ Dodge?

Oh, and I might add that I could understand his urgency if there were a pile of cars behind me. Nobody can be blamed for wanting to beat a long line of traffic. But NO, there was no other traffic. Of course not.

So in my head, I am running the litany of complaints about general incompetence.

After several miles the road became two-lanes. There was a car in front of me. I was parallel to utility man. The light, about 50 yards away, was about to turn yellow.

Oh yes, I took my chance.

Butted right in front of him like he did to me and coasted to a smooth stop in front of him at the red light.

I see hand gestures in my rear-view mirror and know what he’s saying, though I don’t think it’s sign language.

And it made me laugh. He saw me laugh in the mirror, and it made him laugh.

I stuck my hand out the window and gave him the finger. Okay, not really – I gave him a thumbs up. He returned with a thumbs up as well, knowing I’d technically won that little round of road sarcasm.

If only we could take all of life’s little annoyances and turn them into laughter.

Date Night Gourmet – CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOKEDLI

Peter and I have decided we’re going to have a ‘gourmet’ night once a week. Now this doesn’t mean we’re trying to cook our way through Bon Appétit or anything snobby like that, but I did discover something about my husband that I didn’t know.

Peter and I were talking about cooking Hungarian Paprika chicken for dinner, and we went looking for the recipe in our recipe cupboard.

Do any of you have a cupboard, or a drawer, or a folder where you put all your recipes? The ones you tear from magazines or the newspaper – with those good intentions of trying them out some day?

Yes, ours is a cupboard. And in this cupboard is a blue binder. In this binder are about 200 pages of college-ruled notebook paper. On on this notepaper, front and back, painstakingly printed in efficient handwriting are recipes. Recipes for all kinds of meals, from all sort of places. Recipes that are alphabetized and cross-indexed and organized.

How had I been married to this guy for all these years and have never opened that binder? How did I not know that he’d gone through the trouble of collecting all these recipes?

Truthfully, this binder makes my Philly Cream Cheese box top recipes look rather pathetic.

When I asked Peter about the binder, he didn’t think it was such a big deal – but I did. He’d written all these recipes down after collecting them. He’d done it when he lived in Vancouver more than 20 years ago. He’d prepared a few recipes housed in this binder, but most were still untested.

And that’s when we decided. Time to test some recipes. And after we test them, we’ll share them with you.

Maybe you’d like to cook with your favourite person or people. The best part – besides the so-far-so-good gastrointestinal pleasure, is that Peter and I are having fun.

We’re not spending the money going out to eat. We’re buying more whole foods and such, which is better eating for all involved, and we’re connecting as only best friends can. With music, laughter and a shared passion for yummy food.

Below is the recipe for Hungarian Paprika Chicken. Try it and let us know how you like it!

Our recipe was prepared while we sipped red wine and listened to a Beatles retrospective on Chez 106. In the news that day was the guy on the plane with the bomb in his underwear.

That’s as snobby as we get.

CHICKEN PAPRIKASH WITH NOKEDLI (Worth every minute it took to make it – triple yummm score.)

Ingredients Needed (chicken):

• 6 whole chicken breasts
• 4 Tbsp butter
• 16 small white onions
• 1 cup chopped onions
• 1 Tbsp Hungarian Paprika
• 8 small carrots
• 2 cans (10.75 oz) chicken broth
• salt
• 1/3 cup flour
• 1/2 cup dry white wine
• 2 cups sour cream
• parsley

Ingredients Needed (nokedli):

• 2 3/4 cups flour
• 3 eggs
• 2 tbsp butter
• 1 cup water

1. Wash chicken; dry on paper towels. Cut each breast in half. brown chicken, 1/2 at a time in 2 tbsp butter in large skillet with tight-fitting cover. turning to brown well. Takes about 20 minutes in all. With tongs, lift out chicken as it browns.
2. Add 2 tbsp butter in same skillet, add whole and chopped onions with 1 Tbsp paprika until lightly browned. Cut carrots diagonally in 1 1/2” pieces. Add carrots to onions, sauté for 2 minutes, stir in undiluted chicken broth and 2 Tsp salt.
3. Arrange chicken in skillet in single layer, bring to boil. Reduce heat and simmer covered for 45 minutes.
4. Once chicken is tender, remove from skillet and place on a platter, keeping it covered and warm in a 300 degrees oven while you make the Nokedli and gravy.
5. PREPARE NOKEDLI: In a large bowl – combine 2 3/4 cups flour, eggs, 1 tsp salt and 1 cup water. Beat with a spoon until smooth.
6. Boil 2 quarts of water with 2 teaspoons of salt (for boiling of Nokedli).
7. Using a moistened spatula, spread dough over the surface. Holding the spatula over the water, use a table knife to scrape off small portions of the dough into the boiling water. Cook 1 – 4 at a time until firm. When they are finished they rise to the top. Use a slotted spoon to remove. Keep them warm and add a small amount of butter. Repeat this process until you have all Nokedli (dumplings, really) made.
8. GRAVY: In a small bowl mix remaining flour with wine until smooth. Add to skillet, stir all liquid together while bringing to a boil. Reduce heat, simmer 2 minutes
9. Slowly add sour cream, heat gently for 1 minute.
10. Remove platter of chicken from oven.  Add Nokedli and pour gravy over all to taste. Add parsley for garnish. Bring extra gravy to the table. Serves 6.
11. You don’t want to know the nutritional contents. Really.

Too Good Not to Share: From The Secret Daily Teachings

“Remember, if you are criticizing, you are not being grateful. If you are blaming, you are not being grateful. If you are complaining, you are not being grateful. If you are feeling tension, you are not being grateful. If you are rushing, you are not being grateful. If you are in a bad mood, you are not being grateful.

Gratitude can transform your life. Are you allowing minor things to get in the way of your transformation and the life you deserve?

May the joy be with you.”

A Secret Scrolls message from Rhonda Byrne
Creator of The Secret

The Joys of People Watching

Have you ever found yourself getting caught up in watching people? Maybe you wonder what they’re thinking, what their lives are like, where they’re going and more importantly, why they’re dressed the way they are?

Most of you are saying…um…NO. Well, I love watching people. I blame it on my Mom. When we would go out for dinner and there was an inevitable wait, she would entertain us kids by pointing at a couple outside the window and asking “What do you suppose they are talking about out there?” And that’s how my people watching got started.

The stories we would create would have us laughing through the whole meal as our unsuspecting thespians carried on their business, which was, inevitably, not even close to the stories we painted for them.

In order to fully appreciate wandering humans, I must be out in public with nothing to do. Like waiting for someone to finish errands while you wait in the car.

Nobody knows I’m just sitting here in my car…watching them. People scurry through the parking lot, pretty much oblivious to everything except what’s on their shopping list. At least, that’s the safe thing to think.

I see plenty of friends wandering in and out of the store. I’m too lazy to get out and say hello, so instead I just wonder how they’re doing and make a quick mental list of people I need to catch up with. Beyond that, it’s more fun to pretend what strangers are thinking when they walk by.

Oh goodie, there’s a woman in her late fifties, wearing bright orange spandex pants and a halter top under her parka. Here’s what she’s might be thinking: “I’d better hurry or I’ll be late for my Vegas Revue. Must get more mascara and pasties, and check on my pole dancing class.”

See how easy it is?  That’s how it works.

There’s a lovely young man with a bouquet of flowers leaving the store. He wipes his brow and is talking to himself. Is he rehearsing an apology? A proposal? A request for a first date? The possibilities are endless, but I settle on the apology. It’s the middle of the day, after all. He probably stayed out too late playing poker, and really – what guy buys his woman flowers in the middle of the day for no reason at all?

There’s a harried father with two toddlers, one already pointing at the store, no doubt asking if she can hang out in the cereal or toy aisle. He’s contemplating it, but he’s also probably thinking his daughter will tell his wife when they get home, and that won’t be pretty. He pulls out the shopping list before he heads in through the noiseless sliding doors. He squares his shoulders like a man going off to war. His momma would be proud.

Sometimes, watching people is so entertaining that I’m almost disappointed when make-believe time is over. I didn’t even have a chance to think about the teenage couple holding hands, the gentleman that comes out with loads of soda cans, or the elderly lady getting out of the taxi.

The next time you’re waiting anywhere, make up your own story about the strangers walking by. Don’t be mean and judgemental, be creative. Strangers, if they notice you at all, will  be confused by the mysterious smile on your face…and that will be amusement enough.

Staying Young Has Nothing To Do With Miracle Creams

I think I’ve found the secret to staying young. And I don’t think it has much to do with lotions, potions, make up or plastic surgery.

Not long ago, I was near a Toys R Us. I was going in just to look, really, and possibly to pick up a gift for my nephew and niece in California. However, about thirty seconds after I walked through the door, I forgot all my dear little what’s-their-names and what child-like delight they would show at whatever gift I picked for them.

My eyes were drawn in all directions at once, which, let me tell you, causes a ridiculous eye strain. The colours were so bright, inviting you to touch, to want. The glitter and shine of the pinks and purples of the ‘girlie’ toys, the masculine blacks, reds and blues of the ‘boy’ toys all made me realize one thing.

It stinks to be a grown up.

I’d like to know who made the rules that say we’re not allowed to play with toys, not allowed to pretend after a certain age. Are you thinking “Nobody told me I couldn’t play with toys anymore…”?

Exactly. Somehow, we let an interest in the opposite sex take away our desire for the very things that made us laugh, stretched our imaginations, allowed incredible fantasies and made us forget about anything that made us sad as children.

Why don’t we do that now? For some reason, we adults change from toys to dates, to bars, to marriage, children, jobs, careers, other people…whatever. Simply said, we grow up.

Who makes the rules on when it’s time to grow up, anyway? Who says you can’t be an adult and still enjoy total reality abandonment like a child does? Like your children do?

Put down your cell phone, PDA, laptop, wallet, glass, newspaper and dinner preparations. Put them all down. Go to your child’s room, the attic or a toy store. Find a toy you used to love when you were a child. Smile at it and remember.

Remember what it was like to pick up your Barbies and immediately fall into their world. Find Ken and make it happen, ladies. Men, go find a Hot Wheels track, or build a fort under the dining room table. Make a tent out of your bed sheets and play doctor with your wife. Grab the pots and pans from the bottom drawers. Raise that wooden spoon and bring back the Racket Band that you used to love when you were in diapers.

Life is meant to be fun, to be enjoyed. Sure, there are responsibilities to be handled on a daily basis. But if we handle them, and then forget them for awhile while we play with the Easy Bake Oven or the Erector Sets….what’s the harm? Find a refrigerator box and climb in. It’s your world. Have fun with it.

Watch children for examples. They’ve got it down to an effortless

science. And, me – I’m working really hard on this and should be an expert in no time.

LiveJournal Tags: humour,life,children,toys,playing,growing old,childish,family,adult,stress busting,laughter,young at heart,jkm asylum,joyce menyasz

Everything is Good . . .You Just Have to Look . . .

From The Secret Daily Teachings

“Good is underneath every single thing that appears to be negative. If we can know that good is all there is, including in a negative situation, then we will see a negative situation transform into all good. Most people keep the good away from themselves because they label something as bad, and then, of course, that becomes their reality. But there is no bad in the Universe; it is just our inability to see things clearly from the bigger perspective.

Peace comes from knowing that good is all that exists.”

Gratitude . . .in all ways on all days.

From The Secret Daily Teachings

“There are two words that, when spoken, have the most unfathomable power to completely change your life. Two words that, when they pass your lips, will be the cause of bringing absolute joy and happiness to you. Two words that will create miracles in your life, wipe out negativity, and bring you abundance in all things. Two words that, when uttered and sincerely felt, will summon all the forces in the Universe to move all things for you.

There are just two words standing between you, happiness, and the life of your dreams . . .

THANK YOU.”