Resolutions: not so much

So I made it to the gym. A hotel gym no less. Am on small business trip. Promised myself would get 30 minutes in because have not been so disciplined with the nasty cold. Here is the thing: it's so difficult to run when your thighs are slapping together. Yes, I said my inner thighs are giving each other the "high five" and no one told me this would happen. I am scared that while running I could start a forrest fire. So, I did the elyptical which is much like walking when drunk, but your arms are moving in a more controlled motion. I had come to the conclusion that I hate working out when my own tiddy flew up and hit me in the eye and then bounced off my shoulder.

Now, am off to fancy work dinner. This is great in theory, except work dinner followed by work breakfast and full day of work meeting before driving home with co-workers. So, your mama is saying she can't show her ass at fancy Italian restaurant. Enough Pinot Grigio, thank you.

Best part ever: aforementioned cold brought about lovely cold sore. Looks like evil twin is hatching from my own lip to take over my face and foil my plan for world peace. Nothing says I am a skank like: cold sore. I should wear a sash: MISS INDESCRETION : I make bad decisions.

Off to put on my sequined moo-moo and bedazzled orthopedic shoes. It's show time kids.

If only I could remember

I have my best thoughts at night, late at night. I can't tell you how many funny things I have thought but only if I could remember. Sometimes when I am in the shower I make up songs, and they are damn good, but I don't remember them between the shampoo and the toweling off.

My memory isn't as good as it quite was. I suspect it is because I am torn working at home, traveling, writing and trying to be a blogger and being a general pain in the ass. So I write myself notes to remember things.

Sometimes it is a note to remember a particular point on a contract.

Sometimes it is an item at the grocery store I neglected to get.

Sometimes it is to feed the cat, even though she does need to eat every day.

Sometimes, it is to add correct punctuation.

Sometimes it's an idea. This is the trickiest. I find now that I scribble it down and one of three things happens:

1) cannot read own handwriting (Does this happen to you or am I a slob?)

2) does not reconnect to original thought of brilliance and is lost forever in sea of intelligent no-where-ness

3) Cannot make sense of what the hell I wrote in the first place. What does this even mean? Why did I write down that? Why did I write down juxtapoz? That's my whole life.

So now I must write narrative. I am writing little letters to myself. No, don't get the wrong Idea I don't write love letters to myself. "Dear lovehandles, you're a person, too." " Dear self, you're smart and people respect your opinion" No- I write, this is for this thing and don't forget to do that with it.

One can imagine that this is great loss and waste of time, again typically late at night and it makes perfect sense that when I get up tomorrow I will remember that I had a great idea for a scene in a screen play... alas it's never as good as it was just before I went to bed. And, I can't write the song in the shower because the paper gets wet and I lost the lyrics.

So, you see, I am a one person paper recycling machine. If only my brain could be recycled for something useful I could control the world.

snow day

today was a snow day. I tried to get out but I slid the big sled about ten feet backwards and decided it was not worth it. Funny how an inch of snow translates to ice which doesn't look like anything but makes it just not worth it. Immediately put on my robe and slippers: this is what giving up feels like

Ever wonder?

So Mama is old now. I've come to embrace the fact that my age is catching up to me. While I am fighting the battle of the bulge, I realize I will never be a size two again. I do however, have ambition that my ass won't bounce off the back of my knees when I run. What I cannot conquer is my eyesight. I gave up and got glasses, which I'd been fighting. Now, for one thing I swear my non-glasses vision is worse than ever. I think my eyes are as lazy as my ass now. But what I cannot wrap my head around is what the hell happens everyday that gets my glasses so dirty. I mean, were my eyes this dirty before I started wearing the damn things? What are those little specs of dirt? Do I sneeze that much? How come I can never just clean them with my shirt tail and not get that damn smudge? I'd like to say I'd get lasik but I'd see that money going into a lipo jar before the lasik jar. That's really all Mama has to say today. I've enjoyed plenty of holiday cheer and I am wore out behind the second weekend cheers and holiday spirits. I'm off to hit up a hot toddy and put on my night robe.

End of the year Opportunity

The end of the year means a new start to most of us. It's an opportunity to start anew and make resolutions for the new year. A new year brings a new you. But, it's also an opportunity to reflect and be thankful for what you have and what you are.

Are you in good health? Do you have a job? Are you loved? Do you have family and friends you care about? It's time to close the book but remember what happened in this chapter. Here's to an even better 2010.

Mother Barry

PS Starting tomorrow I am going to give up sweets, drink less, eat more green things, plant a garden and run 10 miles a day- I'll stop lying to myself on Saturday when this buzz wears off.

Dollars and $ense

How come I got a bill for $0.18? It's from a long distance provider I no longer use and apparently I had a service charge that was pro-rated for the year coming out to less than a quarter. Now I know big companies cannot take right offs for every little bill but think about the math for a minute. The postage to send me the bill was more than the bill. The check I will write is going to be more than the bill and the stamp is more than double the bill. So, I might count out 18 pennies and put them in the envelope. Of course, some poor fool would have to process and count my change and I can't do that to anyone in good faith. I wonder if I don't pay if it would go to collections? It could accumulate decades of interest charges and I could lose my good credit rating.

the Gym Chronicles

Dear Old Cougar Lady at the Gym:

I am most happy for you that you have a flat stomach and some abs. However, I don't want to see your c-section scar. You should cover up. It is not appropriate to wear your sports bra as a top. I have on spanks but they're covered up under this XXL Detroit Tee. Seriously, I know it's in style to be a cougar or a milf but you look like an old hooker.

Day two of working out: Tried to row. Fell off backwards. Yelled something that sounded like this as I crashed against the wall Gyawd Daym. Found a chair that you sit in- thought this might be more my speed of a workout. However, when you sit in this chair you are spred from Monday - Thursday like you went in the gynochronologist ( you go to the gynochronologist just to see how old your vagina really is). Then you push your legs together. This is supposed to work your inner thighs. I felt like a huzzy tramp and no body bought me a steak dinner. I am already sore so my vagina may write me a dear jonn letter tomorrow.

This whole gym thing is a real sub-set of American culture. It's a mating grounds for people who can't go to bars.