At the F-word's unsubtle urging (he bought me goggles for my birthday), I've started 'swimming'. Once upon a time, I knew how to swim, although I've got pretty clear memories of failing the introductory 'otter' course six or seven times when I was little. Something to do with a crippling, pathological fear, not of water, but of hammerhead sharks swimming out of the ducts on the sides and eating me. It's not fully gone. As a matter of fact it's not gone at all; I don't think I could swim alone in a pool. Luckily I go to the YMCA and the pool is always crowded with people who are more thrashy and better marbled and aged than I, so I think I'd be able to escape with my life.Anyways, it's fun, even if I have a tendance to 'swim' with the awkard, rigid form of an offended housecat who's been chucked in against her will. That's once I scrape together the balls to actually let go of the kickboard, of course. And I thought I had a nicely working cardiovascular system but it turns out I don't so it feels like a nice workout.
That pisser I've been in has been lifting. It's miraculous what a day spent writing, working out and cooking can do. Today, I don't go to the stupid office until two, which is good because I have more writing to do. Including the fucking, fucking Christmas cards which I suppose I should just dress up as PC and call New Years' cards at this point. I don't know what the big problem is with writing Christmas cards, but every year it's a pain in my ass. Putting together the list of who to send to (which I've already done) is the worst part, although this year it's rather better. Simply because this year I have fewer 'estranged friends' - you know, the sort who said something that you interpreted as deeply insulting either about you or your mother so you stopped returning their calls, and now you're wondering if you were right to be insulted, and maybe now is the time to send them a little note that indicates at the very least you wish them more good than harm, and it'll all be fucking Christmassy and great.
And you know? I have no idea if I have fewer estranged friends because I don't take offence as easily, or because I'm better at forgetting people, or because I've actually got to a point in life where I choose friends who are pretty inoffensive. No idea at all.
10 commenti:
Maybe the people you have as friends now you have been friends with long enough to know not to take them seriously. Or maybe you've learned how to make friends with only really great people who would never do anything offensive to you.
I vote for the thing about my friends being really great :-)
Me too.
Oh, OK, I'm me again. Hurrah.
That's one of the reasons I don't do Christmas Cards. OK, that and sheer laziness.
One would hope that there would come a time in your life where you end up already having filtered out all the lame or weird or offensive friends, and all you're left with is the great friends.
But it doesn't always necessarily work out that way.
It's good the way that physical exercise lifts one's mood when one is in an irrational funk. I haven't been doing nearly enough of it, and it shows. Though my terror of swimming pools is not something that's going away any time soon.
I'm going to take up ice skating. My sisX0r handed me down her spare pair of skates, so this should be awesome.
It's hard to find a time-effective way of exercising in the winter when walking or cycling to work is less appealing.
Of course it's so lovely and warm and sunny here I'm probably just saying that because I get fucking winter head colds anyways, apparently. Achoo.
Ice skating is nice once the ankles stop trembling . . . if you haven't done it in awhile I reccommend wraps, even tensor wraps, on your ankles and knees until the muscles around get strong enough to preclude too too much twisting.
And I'm sure I'll get roasted by my non-pussy Canadian readers for such an old lady-ish peice of advice . . . hey, it was all fun and games until Mistress La Spliffe tore her anterior cruciate ligament!
I just stuff my skates full of socks and tighten them as much as I can handle in the time I have between taking mitts off and putting them back on for fear of frostbite. And start of slowly. No one can expect to enjoy skating the first few times if you push yourself to spend an hour on the ice right off the bat - or the bench.
Yeah, you can get all sore in weird places. And thump. Alot. But it's fun and close to flying.
I have weak ankles so I think you give great ice skating advice!
You haven't heard from me today because I - get this - broke my little toe last night! I'll post all the disgusting, gory details whenever I get the chance. My Mom had to stay home from work today to help with Tink. Sheesh!
Oh, my poor Mel! Did they give you good drugs?
Oh noes! Broken toes! Ouch!
I was surprised how much I enjoyed skating - for the first time in 25 years! When I first got on the ice, I was terrified, and could barely keep upright.
My sisX0r kept skating around me going "keep your knees bent and you won't fall down!" but I thought I was going to die. I made my way to the baby rink and pottered about - it came back to me fairly quickly. I had years of lessons when I was a kid.
It's exercise that doens't feel like exercise, which is an amazing thing. I didn't notice until later that my thighs were all stretched out. The only problem I had while skating were cramps in the arches of my feet.
Posta un commento