The Workout

For some weird twisted reason I am a glutton for punishment.  I tend to get myself into little twits of sorts. Relatively harmless but funny endeavors like a scenario that Elaine from Seinfeld would do. As I sit here in all kinds of muscular pain I ask myself. Why I subjected myself to a two hour workout class on Saturday- in between taking ibuprofen and walking like an old women,  I am still trying to figure this all out.

I'll admit my body isn't what it use to be.  Time has taken it's toll in the name of rolls.  The workout regime isn't what it use to be either.  For multiple reasons staying in shape has gotten away from me.  Maybe as a form of punishment to myself is the reason why I decided to take the  2 hour workout special event. Yes, a masochistic motivator to slap my ass right into the karma it deserves.

Darby,  my buddy was one of the master minds behind this event.  A motivated entrepreneur, and a  recent Mother of two.  She's as cute as a well formed button with all kinds of great energy, everything I want. It sounded like a good idea to me.  I signed up a good two weeks in advance and proceeded to let the dreading begin. What have I gotten myself into "Ladies who Lunge" is the name of the course, I can feel the pain already?  Who  am I fooling, this could be dangerous.  I haven't even been working out at all! I better start lunging at home to prep myself.  As the days went on and an occasional lunge and squat here and there, the impending date grew closer. I was clearly anxious and in general highly dubious of the outcome.  Not a good place to be for a self loathing, perimenopausal  female such as myself.

Friday night came like a bad bill.  As a good student I put myself to bed early. I had a big day a head of me.  Not only did I have the ladies who lunge workout class but that evening I had a memorial gathering/party for and old flame/friend of mine who had recently passed away.  Mixed emotions were running deep, brewing themselves in the name of inner term oil.  It was time to rise up and face the proverbial music.  After not sleeping well at all I got up early and drank a capuchino.  Set out a bottle of water, I set it out on the counter next to a brand new bottle of white vinegar.  The vinegar was for the salad I needed to prepare for the memorial service.  Well in my rush of distractedness I almost grabbed the vinegar as my drinking water. How bitter the sweat would be if that were to happen but it didn't  so all is well - so far...

I arrived at the club early, with the correct bottle of water and workout mat in hand.  I signed up and gave my niceties to Darby. She was giving me some kind of grief for the book I had picked for our next upcoming book club. I wasn't really present at the moment I was all consumed with the future and the humility of what lay ahead of me.  The ladies who lunge proceeded to file in. They wore tight fitting black as coal leggings with tight fitting colorful strappy tops.  I, on the other hand had on a faded blackish pair of draw string pants from the 90's loose fitting, hitting me, just so- creating even further the sawed off tree stump look I abhor.  On top of that I wore yet another loose fitting big white T shirt with a tree frog from Puerto Rico on it. I thought the tree frog could give me some good lunging vibes.  As I lay there mustering up various odd stretches I was struck by all the toned bodies, firm muscles and well proportioned butt cheeks strutting their stuff in front of me.  One by one they came in and found their places, muscles rippling and pony tails bouncing. I felt like I was at a horse show admiring the power of sleek well crafted bodies, individual in their own ways.  Some powerful and robust with massive muscular thighs and others tall, lean and tight.  Progressive hip hop music thumped on, the bass with it's heavy undertones reverberated inside of me  - imposing an impending doom like sensation all over my miserable body.  I try to comfort myself, I chuckle inwardly 'perhaps it's good fadder  for a blog on humility?'  Well here I sit attempting to do just that.

As it turned out there really wasn't all that much lunging.  There was plenty of up dog, down dog yoga poses.  Which would explain why my arms are killing me.  We also did a fair share of body planks that left me  a quivering mess.  Where there were chances to modify I did, I had decided to be somewhat smart about it.  When you are already over weight and you're asked to lift your entire body weight in a unnatural way, like laying down side ways up on one arm, hips in the air leaning against  the side of one foot and then do push ups.  No thanks, on my knees for this one and the next one if need be.  Miraculously I was doing considerably well, exhausted but functioning. The rubber band exercises, I even kind of enjoyed because they felt good, like they were stretching out my aching muscles. Come to think of it,  turns out later this is where I am probably  the sorest. My shoulders, neck and underarm region from all that pulling and stretching are killing me.  Just when I thought the toughest parts were behind me and I had made it pass the 1 and  1/2 hour marker we were asked to put on our tennis shoes  and go outside.  One of the women with the muscular thighs was heading up this part of the session.  I slipped on my very incorrect black leather tennis shoe like mules and  begrudgingly went out side.  There in the hot sun we proceeded to gallop, leap, skip and jump like idiots around the parking lot.  The whole time while being screamed and rooted on by this women. Once I heard her say "come on you don't want to be the last one do you?" I was so tired, literally dragging my ass, attacked by the slug-mo- lead foot syndrome it was all I could do to keep moving in an upright position.  My mouth was completely dry as I gazed to my left, I saw her the one with the thighs leap so high into the air a small child could of ran  underneath her.  It was shear madness, but I kept on going. I probably looked like I was ahead of the rest  because in-fact the rest were  laps ahead of me.  In the end I made it and was a better person because of it.  I  was soaked in humiliation and now ached with accomplishment.

As I was leaving Darby hugged me and said she was proud of me and mentioned that I should be too.  There were a slew of girls that opted not to go outside at all and waited in the cool air-conditioning while me and the other brave souls completed our laps of victory.  My chin went up a notch, I wasn't so bad after all.

That night I went to mourn and celebrate with  family and  close friends the life of a friend who died too young .  There was good food, plenty of laughs and  tears shared.  I drank Sailor Gerry rum and cokes, ate too much and slow danced with a women named La Donna.  I listened to a young man named Dallas  play his acoustic guitar and sing a hilarious song  he  wrote about Brownie Balls, while his good friends sang backup. I gazed upon the paintings of Dallas's twin brother Crosby's and thought what a brilliant mind. I am feeling glad to have the friends I have.  I am glad to  have a body that is somewhat willing and able.  I have seen a lot of tragedy  and know it can strike at any time. My life is blessed with an open mind and aching appreciative muscles.  I should start using them both a lot more often.

Hair

Studio Days and the Milky Way

Dear readers,

You may not know this judging by all the photos of my cats and garden but I am an artist. Educated sculptor, marble carver, crafter, angst ridden digger, delver, up-cycled, repurposed mosaic welder, secret lover of elves and the little wee forest people, hoarder of bobbles bangles and beads and most everything else - this is my fairy tale folks I hope you like it.  No seriously, I have been spending a lot of time in my studio as of lately tweeking  and getting it just right.  First there was the new desk that I painted to match the color of turquoise bead, then I distressed and sanded it, after all that   I antiqued it and clear coated it. What a job that was, and if I had to do it all over again I would of painted it in an oil base paint not acrylic.  The sales person at Home Depot told me it would be fine in acrylic, and by the way they don't sell oil base paints at my Home Depot.  Live and learn...

                                                                                                                          

Next is my lovely chest that stores all my beads,  beads have long been a passion for me ever since I  was a small girl.  I still have some beads from way back when I use to go to Ben Franklins Drug Store also known as Pinkys and buy them in a little clear test tube sealed with a cork.  I can still remember loving to pick out the colors and then stringing the seed beads one by one into little patterns on a necklaces.  Now my bead collection has grown as big as the Milky Way. I have always liked the idea of beads as a metaphor to planets. Like they are the microcosm to the great big macrocosm.  It helps my little brain wrap around the concept of the  infinite. Trade beads have always intrigued me there's so much history some good and I am sure some bad.
I try to imagine what they were traded for,  skins, rugs, food, Booze!  Who wore the beads where did they live,what were they like?  The significance and power of beads - what did they symbolize?  Even today we still put meaning into a stone a color a shape, powerful stuff!  I now store my beads in the perfect caddy which is easily  excess-able  and saves  oh so much time from all that digging and delving. 

This summer my husband and I took a trip to Colorado. It was an exploratory trip and we covered a lot of ground. While on our adventures we discovered Marble Colorado. Marble CO. is known for it's white marble quarries, thus the name. In fact the tomb of the unknown soldier was made from a massive piece of white marble from Marble CO. The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier is located high on a hill overlooking Washington, DC. The tomb was dedicated in 1921 and contains the remains of soldiers from WWI,WWII, Korea and Vietnam.  You may ask why am I writing about this now. Well I use to live in Italy, Pietrasanta Italy. The Saint of stone is where I spent years covered in marble dust.

This is  where I learned  to carve marble and was forturnate to live and work with some of the world best sculptors and artisans. Italy has many kinds of marble but one that stands out to me is the white statuary marble. This is the marble that Michael Angelo used to carve David. 






When you break it open it looks like sugar. Well while I was in Marble Colorado I purchased a chunk of marble, we put the chunk in the trunk and we drove it home. Now I have this piece of marble staring me in the face daring me to get my tools out and start carving again, make more dust again. This marble looks like sugar too. I am excited about the prospect of this chunk. I see a women's winged head, sleek, feminine and calculative. It's funny how you return  to the things you once loved, maybe it's a natural cyclical thing. I made a winged head probably 17 years ago. I modeled it after the 50 lira coin. For years I kept a blank key on my key chain of the winged Pontiac. I found it in an old abandoned building.

I use to tell people it was the key to my heart. Now I carry my grandfathers St. Cristoforo. It's interesting,  when you are more mature you  can start to connect the dots of past events, desires and passions. They start to make sense, but when you're younger their just dots in the great vast Milky Way of infinite directions.

Wini & Diego

Here is a photo of our new babies. Aren't they just wonderful. We named them after our grandparents except Wini ended up being a boy, even though I was told by the adoption agency he was a girl. I should of checked for sure myself. Now I am attached to him and they do really seem to get along great together. It's fun to have some new life around the house. As you can imagine they are always into things, but purring all the time too. The sound of a cat purring has to be one of the most comforting sounds in the world...