I will be even more scarce than usual for a bit. Classes start today and of course, football is about to be full tilt.
Will pop in and update at least once a week - I hope. :)
Monday, August 24
Monday, August 17
On the Home Front
Most of you remember my run in with the troop of termites who moved into my quadrant (or den wall) on their seek and destroy mission.
If you somehow managed to miss the newsflash - here is the link.
I have had yet another grand adventure in the rapturous joy of home ownership.
What I am finding out - the termites were just a weapon to be used by a much more insidious and ruinous villian. My house. If you are laughing now - you either rent or your house hasn't initiated it's attack. Don't worry though - it will.
Whilst the termites are marching to their death (General Terminator tells me their annihilation will take 90 days), the house has launched it's second wave and found another way to pluck at the precious few strings securing my sanity. The plumbing. Of course!! I should have seen this coming. Bah!!
A little back story. Friday was the first day of full pads for Permian football. For you non-football people (eek) you won't understand what a fantastic day of practice this day is. And at Permian - it's even better. We are exuberant in our interest and support of our team. (Buzz Bissinger - or as he's known locally "the yankee on the wanted posters" - calls us rabid freaks of society. Tomato - Tomahto)
I had been looking foward to 5:00 all day. At 4:30 I am ready to head up to the school. I like to be a little early to get a good spot and get in some gossip with the Spit n Whittle club (the old farts who know everything) before practice starts. I decide I'm gonna pop into the bathroom before I head out.
I hurry into my bathroom and my first step in kind of..... "squishes". I think, "well isn't this fun?". Yep, you guessed it. The nuclear hazardous disgusting waste from the entire county is now flowing forth from my shower drain much the same as steam and spring water flows forth from Old Faithful. What the hell?? Now you would think my instinctual reaction would run along the lines of "oh my poor bathroom" or "this is gonna be expensive" or "I'm moving". Those who know me, know my first though was, "how the hell am I gonna get this fixed before practice starts in 30 minutes?"
Being a woman of high moral fiber, I must confess (I do that a lot) that I seriously - I mean seriously - considered just leaving it, using the Texaco station down the street, and going to practice. I am literally standing in the doorway to my bathroom weighing this desire to see my guys knocking the snot bubbles out of each other with the desire to have basic necessaties in my house. Calling the plumber and missing practice won out - but just barely.
This sends me to the phone book to start calling plumbers. Since I am who I am, it's after 5:00 by now and of course all plumbers charge time and a half after 5:00. It's no accident - my house is experienced in matters of suburban warfare. Of course it knew better than to break during regular business hours or on a Tuesday. Nope, Friday at 5pm was perfect. It knew I might be able to wait until morning, but it knew the husband would stroke out if I tried to wait out the weekend.
Okay, so it's gonna cost me twice as much but I am still hopeful that I can get a speedy plumber (who's laughing??) to come out and fix the swamp in my bathroom. I might yet get to see at least a few minutes of practice. I should know better, but I am nothing if not optimistic. That hope dwindles as I get to the end of the plumbers. No one is available until Saturday morning. What is that? Is there some sort of Toilet Seat Horseshoes World Champion tournament in town Friday night?? At this point I am beaten. It's taken me two hours to find out there's no hope of fixing it until the next day. I have missed practice. And I STILL can't use the damn bathroom.
I concede defeat. I go find a tree in a secluded spot and a soft leaf then schedule a plumber for Saturday morning. He shows up early, finishes in a timely manner, and I pay him. Normal people would be pleased with this outcome, wouldn't they?
If you somehow managed to miss the newsflash - here is the link.
I have had yet another grand adventure in the rapturous joy of home ownership.
What I am finding out - the termites were just a weapon to be used by a much more insidious and ruinous villian. My house. If you are laughing now - you either rent or your house hasn't initiated it's attack. Don't worry though - it will.
Whilst the termites are marching to their death (General Terminator tells me their annihilation will take 90 days), the house has launched it's second wave and found another way to pluck at the precious few strings securing my sanity. The plumbing. Of course!! I should have seen this coming. Bah!!
A little back story. Friday was the first day of full pads for Permian football. For you non-football people (eek) you won't understand what a fantastic day of practice this day is. And at Permian - it's even better. We are exuberant in our interest and support of our team. (Buzz Bissinger - or as he's known locally "the yankee on the wanted posters" - calls us rabid freaks of society. Tomato - Tomahto)
I had been looking foward to 5:00 all day. At 4:30 I am ready to head up to the school. I like to be a little early to get a good spot and get in some gossip with the Spit n Whittle club (the old farts who know everything) before practice starts. I decide I'm gonna pop into the bathroom before I head out.
I hurry into my bathroom and my first step in kind of..... "squishes". I think, "well isn't this fun?". Yep, you guessed it. The nuclear hazardous disgusting waste from the entire county is now flowing forth from my shower drain much the same as steam and spring water flows forth from Old Faithful. What the hell?? Now you would think my instinctual reaction would run along the lines of "oh my poor bathroom" or "this is gonna be expensive" or "I'm moving". Those who know me, know my first though was, "how the hell am I gonna get this fixed before practice starts in 30 minutes?"
Being a woman of high moral fiber, I must confess (I do that a lot) that I seriously - I mean seriously - considered just leaving it, using the Texaco station down the street, and going to practice. I am literally standing in the doorway to my bathroom weighing this desire to see my guys knocking the snot bubbles out of each other with the desire to have basic necessaties in my house. Calling the plumber and missing practice won out - but just barely.
This sends me to the phone book to start calling plumbers. Since I am who I am, it's after 5:00 by now and of course all plumbers charge time and a half after 5:00. It's no accident - my house is experienced in matters of suburban warfare. Of course it knew better than to break during regular business hours or on a Tuesday. Nope, Friday at 5pm was perfect. It knew I might be able to wait until morning, but it knew the husband would stroke out if I tried to wait out the weekend.
Okay, so it's gonna cost me twice as much but I am still hopeful that I can get a speedy plumber (who's laughing??) to come out and fix the swamp in my bathroom. I might yet get to see at least a few minutes of practice. I should know better, but I am nothing if not optimistic. That hope dwindles as I get to the end of the plumbers. No one is available until Saturday morning. What is that? Is there some sort of Toilet Seat Horseshoes World Champion tournament in town Friday night?? At this point I am beaten. It's taken me two hours to find out there's no hope of fixing it until the next day. I have missed practice. And I STILL can't use the damn bathroom.
I concede defeat. I go find a tree in a secluded spot and a soft leaf then schedule a plumber for Saturday morning. He shows up early, finishes in a timely manner, and I pay him. Normal people would be pleased with this outcome, wouldn't they?
P90X is the Debil
The Debil, I tell ya! The Debil!!
I can hear Kathy Bates telling me this every time I have popped in the DVD's... all three times. (For those of you who haven't seen the Waterboy - this reference is totally lost on you. I will post a list of required movies and books in the reference section. Keep up!!)
Yes, I confess: My name is Katt and I have only done my P90 workout three times in ten days. So at that rate I will be done.... (hang on - I'm not real good at math either) in 300 days (or maybe it's 900 days). Fear grips me and my little heart flutters at that thought because I don't think I can survive a year (or 3 years) of this kind of punishment.
And if I do, Good Lord what kind of shape am I gonna be in? I see it in my nightmares! I'll have to have hip replacement from the "Boat and Whatever" exercise because I know in my heart that my charlie horses will eventually snap my hip socket. Gripping the walker that will be necessary after the hip replacement is going to be a problem thanks to my mangled shoulders - and elbows - and wrists that will be the result of repeated attempts at the pernicious push ups. I just pray my fingers still work at the end. Without the internet - my will to live would most assuredly slip away. Wow... I have never literally "shuddered at the thought" before. Far out!!
On a lighter note, I have web-spoken (email) with a 5 week survivor of P90. She has assured me that she has suffered none of the above mentioned blights on her person. She even asserts that she now looks forward to her workouts. Stockholm syndrome - definitely.
I have decided to be valiant in my vigilance. I will finish P90 or at least persevere until it finishes me. I can't have my kiddo finding out I'm not a super hero this late in the game.
I can hear Kathy Bates telling me this every time I have popped in the DVD's... all three times. (For those of you who haven't seen the Waterboy - this reference is totally lost on you. I will post a list of required movies and books in the reference section. Keep up!!)
Yes, I confess: My name is Katt and I have only done my P90 workout three times in ten days. So at that rate I will be done.... (hang on - I'm not real good at math either) in 300 days (or maybe it's 900 days). Fear grips me and my little heart flutters at that thought because I don't think I can survive a year (or 3 years) of this kind of punishment.
And if I do, Good Lord what kind of shape am I gonna be in? I see it in my nightmares! I'll have to have hip replacement from the "Boat and Whatever" exercise because I know in my heart that my charlie horses will eventually snap my hip socket. Gripping the walker that will be necessary after the hip replacement is going to be a problem thanks to my mangled shoulders - and elbows - and wrists that will be the result of repeated attempts at the pernicious push ups. I just pray my fingers still work at the end. Without the internet - my will to live would most assuredly slip away. Wow... I have never literally "shuddered at the thought" before. Far out!!
On a lighter note, I have web-spoken (email) with a 5 week survivor of P90. She has assured me that she has suffered none of the above mentioned blights on her person. She even asserts that she now looks forward to her workouts. Stockholm syndrome - definitely.
I have decided to be valiant in my vigilance. I will finish P90 or at least persevere until it finishes me. I can't have my kiddo finding out I'm not a super hero this late in the game.
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