I Should Just Stay Home.

It's funny how sometimes life gives you situations where you are forced to associate with people you would not ordinarily hang out with if given the chance.
Like on an airplane.
You are stuck for hours on end next to a perfect stranger.
You have to sleep next to them, eat next to them, even ask for their permission, and then assistance, to move for you to use the bathroom.
Awkward.
Or in a movie, most of the time I would NEVER invite those obnoxious idiots from the theater into my family room to take in a flick.

But there you are...dealing with folks that fate chose for you.
I must be getting old.
Cause I have less and less tolerance for people.

There is this lady that goes to my gym.
She is one of those people that you really can't tell how old she is. She has short cropped hair, is a little heavier, and wears full body spandex.
She mostly shows up to cycling, although I have seen her elsewhere, or better yet, I have smelled her elsewhere.
That is not as rude as it initially sounds, I will get back to that later.

Anyway, cycling.
The gym has started a new cycling class called "Cycle-Tone."
You ride the bike, but also implement hand weights.
It is pretty intense.
More core than you would think, as it is more difficult than one would expect to try to stay upright on a vinyl bike seat while also:
not holding on to handlebars
and pumping your arms with weights.
And chewing gum.
And texting. (We will get to that later...)
And trying to breathe THROUGH YOUR MOUTH.
Why through your mouth?
Well, it just so happens that this particular lady that goes to the gym is an herbalist.
She is super-de-duper into essential healing oils.
The concoction she chooses to slather onto her body to work out smells like a mixture of:
Very Cloying Eucalyptus

And Feral Cat Urine

It is not a good smell.
Not.
NOT!
NOT!!!!
Sometimes, in fact, I want to cry, when I get a bike, and then she comes ambling into the room, and chooses a bike in my general vicinity. It's not like the whole class can't smell her, but being close in proximity is almost unbearable.
(And this is coming from the lady who potty trained twins, has three teen boys (and a husband) who play sports, and whose fridge at any given point contains toxic "mystery foods.")
I have a high smell tolerance, but truly...when you are in a class that is intensely aerobic, and forces you to breathe deeply and often...do you really want your air scented of eucalyptus and cat urine?
Nay, I say unto you. NAY.

Anyway...
The second part of the story is the Fight Over the Fan.
The cycle class is in a small room.
I think only 30 bikes fit in the room.
It is long and narrow.
There are three fans.
Sometimes even the briefest puff of recycled air when you are melting into a puddle of sweat is an absolute necessity.
It gives you hope to go on, man!

Well, this lady, hates the fans on her.
"They make me cold!" she said.
So here I am, on my bike, getting ready to start class...she plops onto the bike next to me, and then goes over and adjusts the fan so it will not blow in our direction during class.
Whaaaaat?
I went over and turned it right back.
I didn't even explain myself.
I was so boiling mad that I had to smell her, AND with no fan to buffer the air between us?
Not gonna happen.
I like the fan!
I am a fan of the fan!
And I figure if she doesn't like the air, she can sit in the back of the class, in purgatory, where it is dark, and you can't hear the music, and there ARE NO FANS.
She likes being in front.
You wanna know why?
So she can see her phone.
They turn the lights out in cycle, and there are no windows.
It's great!
No one can see you grimace.
No one can see your back fat (allegedly) jiggle when you are pushing yourself.
No one can see if you actually turn up the tension on the bike when the teacher tells you to.
I love cycle.
Smelly lady has to see her phone.
Cause she texts.
The.
Whole.
Class.
She has turned Cycle-Tone into Cycle-Text.

This is why she gets cold.
Cause she doesn't really work out!
I will never judge someone for coming to the gym. Never.
If you come, and you genuinely try, even if you can't do everything...I think you get full points.
But to attend a class, the same class, for YEARS...and not really take part in it, when the class is constantly full, and people who want to work out get turned away...I think that is just stupid.

She just leisurely pedals and texts.
And sucks back on energy gel.

She told me one day that she had had a weight problem her whole life, until she discovered essential oils!(and would I like more information?)
"I have always worked out as hard as I do now, and the weight never came off!"
Really?
That's weird.

She is a nice lady. Just smelly. And a fan mover.
And doesn't really get it.
When class is over, she always gets paper towels for all her friends in the class, to wipe their bikes down with.

Since the fan incident, I no longer make that cut.
Sadly, I have to walk over and get my own towel.
I suppose I should chalk this up as a learning experience in patience and tolerance.
Looking for the good in people and all that.
But I am secretly hoping she dislikes me enough to not want to sit by me anymore.
Or my nose burns out.

Either one would be great.

Good Purchases.

Sometimes I buy things, and I really hit the nail on the head in terms of appropriateness.
Like this shirt I bought for Brendan:

This is what he normally looks like:

$3000.00 worth of Braces.
Toothbrush optional.
The beginnings of acne.
Does not believe in hair product. And by "hair product" I mean any sort of gel, pomade, combs or brushes.
Clearly he has some photo-worthy expressions, too.
This is all he was willing to give me.
Serves him right that it hit the blog.

The tee-shirt covering "the goods" was a definite improvement, no?

Then we have this gem.
I believe it is self-explanatory.

The only thing missing from the shirt, to make it a completely accurate depiction is a Stonehaven Dental sponsorship logo.

One scooter biff.
Sedation dentistry.
Two extractions.
Insanely long, grotty roots: look at these suckers!

So basically, it cost us $623.00 for her to match that shirt.

And this post could alternately be titled: "The Dentist: and the Many Reasons That They Love The Wadleys."

Apparently I Missed Pi Day?

What the...?
Of all the stupid things I have ever heard, that right there probably ranks up in the top ten.
Right underneath "eating carrots will make you see better."

I ate carrots like a rabbit on Meth, and I am still blind as a bat.

I hate Math.
I can't imagine someone drumming up a whole holiday based on celebrating some stupid Math number.
Equation?

I don't even know.
And how do the herds of nerds celebrate Pi day, anyway?

I suffered through all kinds of Math classes that I was promised I would use later in life.
Let me tell you what.
The only Math you need to know, they teach in second grade now.
I know this, because I occasionally help my kids with homework.
Second grade is as far as I can actually "help" them.
Basic addition and subtraction, some fractions, and multiplication.
What else do you need?

As a mom, you need to be able to count your children.
That is a given.
Unless you stick with just one, smarty pants.

Cut a pizza into equal slices. (Is this Geometry? I never took it.)
Figure out shopping discounts. (30% off? Hard. I just do 10% three times, and round up a little just in case.)
Follow a recipe. (Double a cookie recipe that has 2/3 c. cocoa? Just measure 2/3 cup twice. No brain cramping adding those fractions.)
Figure out how many treats you need for a soccer team. (13 players, the box of granola bars comes in 5's. Four boxes. Siblings always get in line too.)

I think I could choose a better holiday to celebrate than Pi day.
For instance, right off the top of my head...
Sweatpants Day!

Never mind, that is everyday for me.

At least I posted!

Even though have nothing exciting to write about, here is what I don't like today.

That I had to put sunglasses on, cause the sun is actually out, (after cowering behind snow-dumping clouds for the past seven months) and its sudden appearance hurts my cave-dwelling eyes.
And no, the sun is not warm here.
That would be way too much to ask.
When I put my sunglasses on in the car, the lenses fog up and I can't see.
They fog because the air is so cold in my car.
"Why don't you turn on the heat?" you may ask.
Oh, I do.
But I don't get warm air shooting out until the exact moment that I reach my destination.

This is why I never leave the house.

But I have to get out to go to the gym.
I am breaking chairs and stuff!

I am also feeling gross.

We ate Panda Express last night.
I think that Chinese food is like a one night stand.
(Not that I have experience there, but I had a short-lived stretch where I listened to Country Music, and am therefore an expert.)
You will always, always regret it the next morning.

Stupid Orange Chicken.
Sitting like brick in my gut.
And sodium bloat.

In case you didn't notice, that was a haiku.

Thank you, thank you, I will be here all week.

Look What I Did!

Yep.
I sat in it.
Snap, crackle, dump.
Only I caught myself before I hit the tile with my overinflated rump.
Total self-esteem booster!

Now one could arguably say that the kids had previously cracked the chair.
(They did.)
Or that the chair was originally purchased at the RC Willey Clearance Outlet.
($10!)
Or maybe it was on a weird angle?
(Uneven grout particularly prone to storing food particles.)

Truth is, I sat in that chair, and it gave up living.
My weight was more than it could take.
Maybe through frequent pump classes I have acquired abnormally strong gluteal musculature, capable of shattering chairs or cracking tanning beds?
Or that chair could simply be a quitter...

But deep down I know my scale doesn't lie and those Cadbury Mini-Eggs aren't eating themselves.

Ugh.