Eeny,meeny,miny mo...

Choices, choices. Hmmm.
But really, why can't real life be more like the movies or a tv sitcom?  Sprinkle in some canned laughter with all those awkward moments, fast-forward over those difficult or just plain dull times. Add a backdrop of dramatic music during the scary parts, to drown out the pounding of your heart and the under-your-breath screaming prayers of "oh God! Oh God!" And of course we'd all have designer clothes and hair and perfect physiques, as well.  Hmm. Actually, that would still be intimidating and shallow, too. Guess i'll just stick to my own real life, frumpy, bumpy, chaotic, neurotic, yet blessed.
Ok, now for my 23 minutes of viewing pleasure, i choose........;)

sick day list part 3

 

                       

 Even MORE things to do while lying sick in bed

(for the marathon sickies..like me)

21. Take photos of your meds. Resist the urge to reverse the camera view to take a self shot. (think about it, 2-1/2 days without washing hair, same jammies on, nuff.)

22.  Get used to typing and emailing the words "I will not be able to come to _____ today, for I am sick.  (be as descriptively detailed as you desire.)

23 . DO NOT, I repeat DO NOT, under any circumstances, no matter HOW Good Food is beginning to look and smell to you, DO NOT bypass the BRAT diet (Bananas, Rice, Applesauce and Toast) of digestive system gradual re-booting... DO NOT even attempt that bowl of cereal with MILK, or You WILL be Sooooorrrryyyy!!! I kid you not, MILK IS THE DEVIL !!!!!!! (trust me, I speak from Experience of Relapse...)

 

moving right along..

24. Curse the daylight that tries to sneak through the blinds.  Begin to emotionally connect with bats and vampires.

25.  Pray some more. Let the Lord dig up all those issues you've pushed out of your conscious mind for so long and let Him deal with you here, in your sprawled out, broken position of illness.  Enjoy the surgery.

26.  Breathe in God's peace as you thank Him for renewed spiritual life in Christ.  So much deeper and eternal than the complaints of the flesh.

27.  Talk to your favorite stuffed animal.  You know, the one you've had since childhood, who sticketh closer than a brother in all your sicknesses and sleepless nights... c'mon, you know you have one... I have Piggy here...

(If only Piggy could speak, oh the secrets she'd tell...be quiet, Piggy!!!) :)

28.  Eyes closed, tap out songs on your fingers and toes. Make up some new ones. Pretend you are a great pianist. 

29.  Go back through every year of your life and try to think of one song that was popular during each year.  Think of the One event of that year that sticks out in your mind.  That way, if someday you fall off a 100-story building, you'll have lots of thoughts to flash before your eyes before you hit the ground.  Nice thought, I know... :)

30.  Go back to sleep.

note to readers

    Oh Wow! OMG!! oh my goodness!!

   Today, Sat. March 30, at 6:20 pm,

   this blog hit the 2000 views mark!

   Now i know that may not seem like

   a lot to some, but I am not at all 

   trying to promote this thing AT ALL,

   in fact, I almost wish nobody read it

   because I just love the feel of my fingers flying over these keys and

   the look of putting my thoughts and words onto a pretty screen with 

   pictures, as opposed to the dull look of my battered, coffee-stained spiral     j

   notebooks that I've accumulated over the years, but, it is what it is.

   

   I know probably most of the views are just from google searches, even 

   though I rarely even use any tags or labels anymore, as if that might 

   deter people looking for my particular subject matter.   But anyway, 

   since I've got you here for the moment, let me say thank you for reading

   and if you're a "repeat offender", then thanks for sticking with me. 

 

   I will continue to try to vaguely sound off some of my personal thoughts,

   often in the form of poetry, as that's just how my mind travels, in little

   puffs of cloudy words. not always making sense. I also want to stretch 

   my creative writing muscles a bit, am looking at other blogs for ideas

   and inspirations, may include more photoblogging of random stuff, some

   off-the-wall ideas perhaps, just experimenting, so hang in there with

   me.  I just have to write, it's like a disease, so as long as I can find a

   healthy outlet for it, then I guess I'm ok.  Keeps me out of the insane 

   asylum, I hope, LOL!   So thank you, all you 2000 views! adios amigos!

Sick day list, cont'd.

(

(Things to do while lying in bed sick.)
11. Pray. For healing of body, soul and mind.
12. Imagine what great things might happen in your life if nothing could stop you. Pray about that desire.

13. Listen to dogs barking outside. Think about getting a pet.

14. Pray for all the people in your life. Family. Friends, leaders, acquaintances,co-workers, future friends.
15. Pray to be a better person for all those people you love.
16. Thank God for all His blessings, especially His incredible grace and love, even though we don't desserve it.
17. Nibble on a banana.
18. Sip a gatorade.
19. Listen to tunes on pandora with headphones.
20. Watch more episodes of the same sitcom on netflix. And laugh. It's the best medicine.

sick day list

  

    Things to Do while Lying in Bed Sick:

  1.  Stare up at the popcorn ceiling and count the bumps.

  2.  Wonder why you never noticed there were 5 blades

       on this ceiling fan instead of the usual 4.

  3.  Vow never to eat _______ again.

  4.   Imagine yourself on your dream vacation.

  5.  Wonder what kind of construction project requires so much noise on a Saturday         morning.

  6. Actually read all the tweets of the people you follow.  Twice.

  7.  Recall what it felt like as a kid to be sick and have your mom bring you chicken soup and 7up in bed.

  8.  Wish that the wash machine could load itself.

  9.  Really listen to the silly conversations between my kids and their friends on the other side of the wall and laugh.

  10.  Take a nice long nap and try not to have that super weird dream again.

   to be continued...maybe.  zzzzzzzzz.

thorns

 

     

    Living from an honest heart

   It's all I can do right now

   Yet to do this with my face uncovered

   Means the world to me

   No more masks, no charades

   I walk the dark path

   I avoided long ago

   Now it's gotten thornier

   oh those thorns they hurt

   thorns without roses

   really stink

    http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/5771870455

Steam therapy

Steam room paradise
Misty amazon jungle
Eucalyptus bliss

HOOOAHHHH!!!!!

Dear Mr. Body Combat Instructor, 

I accept my defeat.  I will come back later to work on this blog, for I am about to die from your class today.  Too many kicks and jabs.   I am now going to collapse.  later..... (to be continued....stay tuned folks...)

ok, I'm back. 2 hours later.  Had to take a looooong nap to recover from that murderous class. Really tough today, or I'm just really weak!

So a quick synopsis of the mayhem..  I walk into class, and there's Mr. Combat, strolling around the room, greeting newbies and sporting the usual pirates' scarf, Everlast gloves and a huge honkin' super-grande cup of Starbucks something!  MMMmmm, so that's where he gets all that energy!  Guess I"ll need to try that next time.
He gives some first-time advice to a couple nervous-looking newbies.
"You'll love it.  It's the modern cure for road rage."

He's giving advice on the proper height of snap kicks.

"Kick only as high as you can control it.  If you kick me in the gut, that would suck.  Kick me in the front of the knee so my knee goes backward, it shatters. That would suck even more."

Good advice. I'll remember that.

"Ok, you Mad Cary Moms, let's go!!!!"  yes, we are mostly a group of mad moms in here, except for this dude next to me who chose to wear the very same shade of lime green that I did, the copycat.  NO, we did not plan this!!  He's got his upper cuts all wrong, too, keeps doing hooks instead, get a life.

anyway, so the usual, hooks, jabs, uppercuts, roundhouse kicks, snap kicks, pirate sword thrusts, and then this new move I'll call the "lawn mower" move, for lack of memory as to its real term.  Mr. Rob is explaining:

"Hold your opponent's head down by your knee, turn his face up, then BAM!  BAM! BAM!  Just like starting a power cord lawn mower, only bloodier!!!!"

oooh, Mr. Combat, isn't that a bit cruel? nah, this is fun, BAM!

We do some muay thai moves today, some cool blocks and guards. 

He refers to his "partner" several times, I think he's making sure he doesn't get hit on by any of us mad moms.   oh please...

So then come the murderous shoulder swings, yes, I'll be feeling these... then it's

"One hundred and twenty consecutive jabs!  GO!!!  Chin down, shoulders forward,
look at your opponent, get the face!!! (ooh yeah, I will!!! whack! whack! whack! lovin this, baby!!!!!)

"10,9,8,7, GO MAD CARY MOMS, FIGHT! FIGHT! FIGHT!  5,4,3,2, HOOOOOOOOOOAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!"

We get our mats, time for push-ups. "I'd rather see proper form and on your knees than crap form on your toes."  ok, I get it. I"ll do girlie push-ups today.  Don't wanna get pounded for my crap form.
Sit-ups, stretches, cute little Asian-like bow to the instructor... we're done. 

Great class. I'll be back next week. If I've recovered.

Steam room haiku

Burning sweat bullets
Hot foggy blindness almost
Intolerable

sleep blues

 

  If I could sleep

  nights would  be easy

  There'd be no moonlight

  that I'd be scared of

    But I can't sleep

    not like I should

    I cannot dream

    these thoughts are too hard

    And every night

    I hear the house creaking

    No one hears, they're all sleeping.

  If I could sleep,

  I'd snore really loud

  I'd stick one leg out

  and mumble such dumb things

  I'd drool on my pillow

  and wake up with bed head

  and all would be right

   But I can't sleep

   not like I need it

   I just can't dream

   good as I have it

   And when I lie here,

    hear the clock ticking

    see the time passing,

    making me tired.

 Cause if I slept 

  I'd have more good mornings

  my coffee much sweeter

  the sunlight much warmer

    But I can't sleep

    not like I should

    I just can't dream

    oh that I would

    but no, that's for others

 http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/2109916128

just thoughts on drowning

  My Near-Drowning Experience
My brother has always been a crazy daredevil.  From hopping railroad cars for a fun ride down the tracks, creating fire balls from a match and an aerosol can and then being rushed to the emergency room, setting up a firecracker "surprise" in his high school locker the last day of school, to motorcycle accidents, diving off bridges, scuba diving for sunken ship wreckage and more,his insatiable quest for adventure always seemed to lack a bit of common sense and a basic respect for survival. Nonetheless, he also possessed great skills of persuasion, which he used to enthusiastically encourage me, his younger sister, to accompany him on some of these quests.One of them involved his long-time passion for river kayaking.  It was springtime in Wisconsin, after heavy rains had created flood stage conditions on the rivers. I was back home for a short visit on my ministry furlough from the teaching job I had in the Dominican Republic.  Having just spent 2 years in a very challenging ministry environment, living in a 3rd world culture, learning to speak Spanish by trial and error, and battling monstrous spiders and cockroaches on a daily basis, I felt I was ready for anything. Physically, I had just completed a mountain climbing trip up the highest peak in the Carribean, plus I'd been a wilderness trip leader/whitewater canoe instructor for the summer before all that, so kayaking? a piece of cake, right?  Well, it would've been, except for one thing: my extreme fear of that tight-fitting "skirt" thing that completely traps a person inside the kayak.  oh sure, suppposedly one can yank themselves out of it if they capsize, but since Eskimo rolls are the usual procedure for kayakers, no "real" kayakers really worry about that issue.  Ok, so Big Bro assures me I'll be fine, he'll give me a quick kayak lesson in the beginning and then we'll be off.  Our parents drive us down to the river, at a place just below the dam, where the already overflowing river is at its highest, wildest condition.  We put on our protective gear, carry the kayaks down the river bank and carefully get in.  I'll never forget the look on my mom's face as we started out that day, and later she told me she didn't know if she was ever going to see me again.  So anyway we find a fairly calm spot on the side of the river and he teaches me the basics of kayaking, in a quick 5-minute lesson, minus any instruction on eskimo rolls, assuming I would just be able to tear myself out of that dreaded "skirt" thing should anything bad happen. uh, note to self here, never assume.  Basics covered, Dean is confident his very capable student is now ready to hit the white water below the dam and try out some fancy tricks.  ri-i-i-i-ight!?

First up, the break-away. You paddle upstream really really hard, straight into the current and the underside of the coming waves.  Then veer suddenly to the right, and lean, (which is it, upstream or downstream???) so that the wave then spins you back around and you go shooting down the rapids.  Looks like fun, and so easy when HE does it.  So caught up in the momentum and the adrenalin, I charge upstream with all I've got, veer to the right, then look back at my brother to ask, "which way do I lean again, upstream or downstream???"  Apparently I got the direction wrong, because OOOF!! Splash!! Over I went, hanging upside down as my kayak took me down the river in a mightly rush of whitewater currents.  Totally taken off guard and having had no time to even hold my breath, I am hanging there underwater, gulping down mouthful after mouthful of that mighty river, until my deflated lungs are crying out to be filled, as well.  It was probably only a matter of seconds that I was going through this, but it felt like an eternity.  Mentally all I remember thinking about was angels and Jesus.  Not even how I was going to right myself up again or tear myself out of that evil kayak skirt.  I was beyond that, already assuming this was it.  If those angels didn't pull me out at this instant, I would soon be face to face with my precious Jesus, and I was ok with that.  I've always had nightmares about this kind of experience, being trapped and drowning, and thought iit would be the very worst way to die.  I love the movie The Abyss, but there's a scene I can barely watch anymore.  When the guy and girl are stuck in this other underwater sub station that's quickly filling up with water and they only have enough air in a tank to get one of them back to their "home" sub station, the girl decides that she will let herself drown, then the guy will carry her unconscious body back as he swims to the sub station, hoping to then revive her with mouth-to-mouth resucitation when they arrive.  Of course it works out and there's a happy ending, but the terror and panic on her face as the water is rising and she's acknowledging what is about to happen to her, oh it's just too much to watch!  Soooo here I am hanging upside down from the kayak in the river, having similar thoughts.  I've since then heard that the experience of drowning, once you get past the panic, can be described as ecstatic, like being in a wonderful drug-like state.  Maybe I was getting close to that, since I don't recall a lot of panic, just thoughts of heaven and what it was going to be like.  I really don't know.  All i remember that happened next is somehow my head is above water, my thrashing about (or so I suppose, though I secretly think it was the angels) having finally yanked me out of the skirt, and my brother is holding the kayak and saying, "you're ok, you're ok".  I think he was actually pretty freaked out himself by the experience, though he wouldn't admit it.  We went over to the side where I coughed the river back up, before getting back in the boats and paddling our way back down to where our parents waited with the car, some 5 miles downstream.  It wasn't easy getting back out there on the water, and you can bet I tried my hardest not to tip over and did not try any more tricks!  But I'm glad I was forced to try again, so I wouldn't be forever frozen in fear of any type of water sports, which I adore.  Guess when I die I"ll become sort of a mermaid angel, flying around underwater.  :)

message in a bottle

  

     Took a walk down to the river.

    A bottle in one hand, a note in the other.

    A Bible verse in my head: Matthew 29:32

    "Jesus stopped and called them. (two blind men)

     'What do you want me to do for you?' he asked."

     This question, burning in my heart.

    Jesus, you know me. you created me. of course you know what I want.

     Yet you still want me to speak the words?

      You really want to know what I want, what I really really want?

      ok, I'll tell you what I want, what I really really want.

     Reaching the muddy river bank, I kneel down and read my note.

     Scrawled in fresh ink, like blood. I read it aloud

     Against the roar of the rushing waters.

     I look around, making sure no one heard me.

     Nature is good.  Even the birds aren't tweeting this one.

     I stuff the note into the bottle.  Throw the bottle into the wild white froth.

     Watch it bob in the foaming rapids, 

     then catch the current and start floating away.

      My eyes rest on a whirlpool, spinning beside a large rock

     As I stare into the dark swirling waters, 

      I think I see...is it, a hand...reaching up...no! it can't be...

      a ghostly white hand reaching up as if to grab me

      to pull me down, down, down

      to the bottom of the river

       No!!  I laugh it off, some kind of imagination...

       I look back down the river.  

       Can barely see the bottle now, rolling and careening around rocks

       as it travels to its destination.

      I quickly turn and begin climbing back up the river bank.

       Job complete.  Jesus will find my note.

        As the sound of the water subsides 

        the whirlpool

        stops spinning.

    

Wait for it...

Thoughts bubbling up
Think i'm going to explode
Fingers twitching, gotta type
Need some alone time.

Chocolate meanderings

Baking brownies while
Thinking of my next blog post
Puttering aimlessly

Sleepy haiku

One thing better than
Sunday afternoon nap is
Nap during the rain

Car jams

Here's the kids and i getting crazy to music in the car.
Hope this photo collage works...

Created by PhotoGrid.

Carpool mindstream

So here i sit in the carpool line. Behind a zillion cars.  Radio tunes streaming through my head. Some Good.  some bad.   Can't believe these moms do this every day, i am just thankful for school buses. Today is an ex eption.whate er.ca.t type with this music so call me maybe! Hard told look right at you...dj says there's a bb game on.  I prefer the music's.
Show me how to love the unloveable, do the impossible. Reach the unreachable.
Ooh ooh. School bell rang. Cars revving. Gotta go! Gotta pick up 4 kids today. Get pizza. Crazy weekend ahead!  Adios amigos! Hasta la vista baby!!!

caffeinated lyrics

 

   

           feeling the lyrics

      want to know the songwriter

       i think we'd be friends

                                                                           

            an unknown texter

           thought it was someone i knew

           truth revealed, creepy

more car tunes

  

               some songs hit home hard

          bring thoughts didn't know i had

          like after i'm gone

 i would rather hurt

 than not feel at all(their words)

 yet I sing along

                                 mindless dance beats thump

                                techno, sweat, move it faster

                                         it's all physical

driver's seat haikus

          music touches me

       in a place far, far away

        where there are no words

     

                                no one can find me

                            when i find my secret place

                                beats, spirit collide

               poet, driver's seat

           music, thoughts, tears, parking lot

              shopping list undone

after the storm

  Vulnerability Hangover. 

  Wow.  

  I cannot talk about the context in which I heard that term

  tonight

  but it just won't leave my head,

  is searing itself across my brain like a 

  tattoo.

  Definition:  (vulnerability hangover)

  the sense of fear that we've exposed too much, 

  perhaps to a person we cannot really trust.

  a universal experience.

  really??? you mean it's not just me???

  Description: We feel the urge to connect with someone so we share something deeply meaningful.  Minutes, hours or days later, we begin to feel regret sweep over us like a warm wave of nausea.

  Wow.

  Perfect description of

   my worst nightmare

  the thing I strive to avoid most

  that feeling of being stripped 

  of all my defenses

  laid bare for all to see my imperfections.

  This opens up a myriad of exploding thoughts,

  too much to put into words,

  in fact, this would be a good jumping off point

  for some work of art...

  a better way to express how this feels...

  to draw a picture,

  wildly splash paint across a wall or canvas

  in bright reds, purples, 

  calm blues or even black.

  to bang out some chords, 

  add some wailing,

 choreograph a dance,

  spastic at times,

  then flowing, methodical,

  as God calms the storm

  and puts the broken pieces back together

  into a new tapestry, a new vessel, a new song.

  Words can be so unnecessary.

  If only words can be used to connect people,

  then what's the point?

  Even the thunder and lightning understand.

  

  

chicken soup

 

                              

                                                                                                                                   more soup and sitcoms

                                                                                    this cold is more than epic,

                                                                                          it's legendary

                                                                                             (achoo!!)

Eph. 4:15

 

        brutally honest

     speak the truth in love again

     i hate doing this

   http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/4457615801

   http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/4457615801

a time to heal

 

       Finally, quiet

    Healing body, healing mind

    Tissues & Netflix

cheetah or sloth

http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/3580728177

                             
                               

                                                                                                    http://www.wylio.com/credits/Flickr/3201201849
 

                                                                              

Some days I am like a cheetah, other days like a sloth.  

Some days I fly out of the den at breakneck speed, knocking down anything and anyone in the way of my chosen destinations: namely, my errands, the gym, my to-do list, volunteer appointments, school meetings, etc.  (don't worry, I don't knock over my kids or smash into other cars in the carpool line, yet!)

 I barely stop to breathe or re-fuel, but continue my focused attack on all that needs to be done.

                                                                                                    

And then there are the sloth days.  like today.  Interesting facts about sloths, they move soooo slooowwwlyy, they even grow green fungi on their fur from sitting in one place for so long. hmm, I'd better watch for that on my self...  And a sloth will hang out in the trees, constantly nibbling leaves, and only come down to use the bathroom, and that's only once a week!  (ok, well, I couldn't quite wait THAAAT long!!, LOL!!)  Anyway so today was one of those days when I could barely drag myself to walk a whole ten steps in succession, to get to the fridge, and even lifting the coffee mug to my lips seemed a major effort. I lay around, performing mundane tasks at the lowest RPM possible, like the "33" speed on an old vinyl record player.  (remember those things? not, oops, i'm old...)    Gym workout? nah, my body is still recovering from the last time, gotta be nice to myself today.  My to-do list? yawn, roll over and take another nap.  Live in jammies or sweats till 2 pm.  Any required trip outside the house seems like an appalling demand on my precious time. Even a jaunt to the grocery store is a joke. I waddle along behind the cart, taking in all the sights and sounds like a hippie on LSD, overwhelmed by the visual stimuli.  oh wow, man, look at the pretty hue of those mangoes... And then I start wondering about all the strange people around me and begin hypothesizing about their lifestyles.  hmmm, this lady is obviously very OCD, look at the way she lines up her cans of tomato sauce in her cart, all labels facing the same way. And look at that guy, is he really going to eat all that garbage? I'll give him a life expectancy of about 53, he'll die of cardiac arrest while choking on a donut wrapped in bacon and slathered with chocolate frosting. ew.  

ok, that was exhausting.  my fingers are conspiring to kill me once i'm asleep. which will be any minute-zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

undercover agent

     
             

                                                                                    

                                                                                                       

                                                                           

                                                                                               

          12:31 pm on a Friday.

         Neighborhood Starbucks.

        Tall dark and a blueberry scone.

         Keeping a low profile.

         Set up by the window.  

         Car with New Mexico plates pulls up.

         Unsuspecting employees and clientele carry on their business.

         My camera secretly captures the visuals.

         My sensors pick up clues on what kind of joint this is.

         Do the barristas seem happy?  Do they enjoy their job?

         I hear employees are given a pound of coffee a week.  I could dig that. 

         What about the vibe, is it cool enough for me?

          How difficult can it be to whip up a grande soy no-water vanilla latte? 

         or something like that.

         What about this music. Bluesy jazz. hmm. now U2-ish, better. 

         Immovable clientele in the corner. Forever plugged into their devices.

         Shaky hands clutching lukewarm cups.  

         Roar of coffee grinder.  Cappucino machine.

         Employee uniform, black. simple enough.

         Distracting shopping center nearby. I'd be tempted to shop every day. 

         ok, nix this place. 

         next week's assignment;  starbucks closer to home.

         still enjoyed the java.

        

         

                                                                                                   

body combat

  

Body Combat:  the empowering cardio workout where you are totally unleashed.  This fiercely energetic program is inspired by martial arts and draws from a wide array of disciplines such as Karate, boxing, Taekwondo, Tai Chi and Muay Thai.  During this ultimate warrior workout, you'll strike, punch, kick and kata your way through calories to superior cardio fitness.  (Fitness Connection) 

          ***************************************************************************************************************

  first class

  instructor guy wearing a pirate-like black scarf thingy on his head.  cool gloves.

  but why the gloves, in case he misses the air? bloody knuckes.

  says, "is this anyone's first class?"

  i sheepishly raise a solo hand.

  he looks at me.  i hate being singled out.

  "name's Rob. you're gonna hate me tomorrow.  i hope you hate me today.  that's my goal."

  great intro.  i like it.

  i smile sweetly.

  "aw, you don't look like the hating kind".

  snicker.

  no worries. 

  seems like he designs window treatments on the side. 

  or bakes scones.

  uppercut, jab, roundhouse kick.

  keep the chin down, make it a less appealing target to your opponent.

  "imaginary opponent", like that term.

  roundhouse kick, fast as a boxer's jab.

  i feel like a donkey on crack.

  with toothpick arms.  gotta work on that.

  Pirates of Carribean music.

  sword move.  draw, circle and stab.

  hooooo-ahh!!!!  love it.

  gaze shifts to mirror.

  who is that mad woman?

  "imagine your opponent. 6'4", 280 lbs.

  parked in your parking space. 

  'excuse me, sir, i'm late for body combat class

  and that is MY parking space!!!' " 

  ok..or another scenario. :)

  Pink song. he's going to her concert this month.

  thinks he'll let her have his autograph. ha ha.

  "next track, you have 5 opponents."

  ooh, i like this

  hmmmm, let me think, 1,2,3.... (just kidding)

  half-jacks.

  "ladies, you can cross your arms over your chest if you want.

  you won't change my world none."

  i LOL.  (told you he was HGTV material)

  nobody else laughs.  they all heard that one before.

  cool-down jog around room.

  he high-fives me, the newbie.

  i resist the urge to try out my upper cut.

  naw, he's safe.

  "now get your mats....this is like herding kittens."

  push-ups, crunches, i'm already hating him.

  "this stretch makes me feel like a matador.

  no, take that back, I always feel like a matador,

  must be those fabulous capes."

  the way he says "FAB-ulous"...

  oh yeah, designer's eye...

  class ends. 

  i will definitely be back.

  love this love/hate relationship.

  hoooo-ahhhhh!!!