Exercise retreat

Yesterday, part of Tiffany's ElementalYou retreat was "pampering" -- all kinds of personal services that I don't ever do, so that was a nice treat.

Today, we exercised. First, there was a dance class at which I arrived late, so I waited it out a yoga/kung fu combination, which was surprisingly good.

In the afternoon, we did a class with water-rowing machines.

No running, but I know I'll be sore tomorrow.

Weekend retreat

I don't know how I made it to 43 years old without having a massage. Part of it is, of course, that I'm frugal. Another aspect of it is that I have four children and a husband and they usually can help me with knots.

Yesterday, though, as part of Tiffany's beach retreat with me and six other women on her plan, I had my first professional massage. It was lovely.

Today will be be a day of exercise -- and no cooking for me.

Various inappropriate topics

1) I came across the site Hot Guys Reading Books today. That sounded intriguing -- a way to combine two of my loves: reading and general lechery (in a very innocent, very married and Catholic way, of course). Imagine my disappointment when they all looked like babies to me. I started hoping that the reading pinups were eating enough vegetables and calling their mothers frequently. I wanted to squeeze their cute (not hot) little cheeks. I'm such a mom.

Of course, I should've known better. I didn't get all that into twentysomethings when I was a twentysomething.  Plus, I'm not a guy, so pictures don't really do much for me.

Besides, I have my own hot guy, who reads (and writes) plenty of books. And who doesn't make me feel like his mom -- thank goodness -- because neither his appearance nor his behavior send me down that mental path.

But I'm passing the site on for my younger readers.

2) Speaking of my own hot guy, he is now resisting the "old man" label, claiming that he hasn't even
had his 15th birthday yet (by virtue of being born on Feb. 29) and that I am a "cradle robber." Touche.

3) So much for losing some chest. Yesterday's fitting put me back solidly in the bigger cup size, with admonishments from the employees about wearing the wrong size bra. Yes, women get their bras fitted. It's all matter-of-fact. Paul says it sounds sleazy to him. Men just aren't as used to being poked and prodded.

The sad truth

I could almost definitely gain a lot of weight without eating sugar, wheat or flour.

That's not, of course, in the plans. But I know that's just reality.

My Favorite Things

1) John Coltrane's version of "My Favorite Things." It was the first real jazz song I fell in love with, which I was exposed to thanks to Paul. Previously, I had heard mostly "smooth jazz," which is all kinds of awful.

Paul once played it for his super sweet, super mainstream parents, who asked, quizzically, "You like this?"

2) The feeling of my aching legs today after the run yesterday.

3) Salmon with capers and spinach and mashed potatoes.

Anniversary!

Today is the two-year anniversary of the first time I ran.

Of course, I'd run around the bases, did suicides in p.e. and for volleyball and chased after my share of toddlers. But I'd never run seriously for exercise until Oct. 4, 2008.

I didn't go very far.

I also cared more about how I looked than I do now. (And I don't look all that different.) The first time I ran, I avoided running around the soccer players or the firefighters that are conspicuous in my neighborhood. I was embarrassed at being out of shape around people who are. In retrospect, it seems completely ridiculous. No one cares. It seems weird that it took me so long in my life to pick up on that; in my defense, I have been heckled a lot from just walking.

Now, I'll run in front of anyone.

The first time I ran, I ran alone. I never thought I'd be able to run with someone else.

Today, I ran with a friend. We did 40 minutes together while her kids were in a class near me, and I did 10 minutes on my own. She's much smaller than me, but she ran at my pace -- and I let her do the talking.

Weekend of 'shoulds'

Things I did because I 'should' do them this weekend:

1) Slept over at Girl Scout camp with the 8-year-old. I got to chaperone eight 6-8-year-olds. It wasn't a good time to give up coffee.

2) Got my hair done. It was time to take care of the gray.

Because I was gone so much, Paul was jokingly complaining about how I haven't been around. I told him it was because I was trying to get away from my terrible husband.

3) Got about halfway through "The Time-Traveler's Wife" and one-fourth of the way through "Eat, Pray, Love."

Both of these are books that everyone has raved about, and I just haven't been able to read them. I've started "Eat, Pray, Love" a few times, and I never can get very far. "EPL" -- as the hipsters call it -- just annoys me, at least the whiny persona of the author does. 

"Time-Traveler's Wife" is much better than I expected, though. This was my first attempt to read it, and it was nothing like schmaltzy Nicholas Sparks' works, which is what I had anticipated. It's much more thoughtful.