Well, this weekend has been nice, although not life-changing. Saturday was 4 1/2 hours of nutrition and fitness classes (so I can get a discout at my gym). Pretty common sense for those of us who read the occasional article about about nutrition. Then we went to sushi and had a nice time, as usual. Sunday morning we met Monkeygirl early for breakfast (if you want to go to the British pub for breakfast, you have to go early or risk waiting for a long time). It was nice to see her and catch up. Then we came home and did household chore stuff and read the paper. Then sweetie had to work, so I dropped him off and then went to the gym.
The Gym: I was proud of myself for going, because I only had an hour until band practice, and I am VERY good at coming up with excuses for not working out. "I only have an hour" would have satisfied me, no problem, but I didn't use it. I rode the bike for 20 minutes, then found some machines that looked familiar from my old gym. I did shoulder-y/lat/upper arm stuff, then since I didn't really recognize anything else, I just got back on the bike for 12 more minutes and came home, right exactly at 1, just in time for band practice.
Band practice: I rushed in through the garage door, grabbed a yogurt, and rushed out the back door to go to the mother-in-law cottage/Gyna cave. But then I screamed and ran back in when I saw a dead cat on my patio. No, I don't know why I screamed and ran in. I got Guitargirl, who was already in the cave, and she and I set about collecting a shovel and a bag, when I suddenly recognized the cat. It was Petra, my next-door neighbor's cat. I went and got him. I said "Has Petra been missing for a few days?" He replied "Yeah. Is she dead?" Apparently she had been sick, and disappeared the night before he had planned to take her to the vet. She looked kind of still plump and catlike on the topside, but when he picked her up to put her in the box, she was real flat on the underside. Probably needless to say, I did not finish my yogurt. I felt really bad for him, and for the cat, actually, but I have to say, I'm glad Mina is an indoor cat. There's no way she could rot somewhere, get stiff and eaten by flies before I had the chance to bury her. Hopefully in about 18 years I'll just take her to the vet or be sitting at home and she'll go comfortably in my arms. She deserves that.
Then mom and I went shopping a little -- the mall was packed. We split a big salad for dinner at Dos Coyotes. Yum! We also got our brows done, which was kind of cool. I can recommend the Benefit brow bar. They did a really good job and the price was comparable to when I've gotten it done at an inexpensive salon. On the way home we stopped at Home Depot and Mom got me a new garbage disposal! YEAH! I really needed one, and I'm not even the one doing most of the sink stuff -- that would be Piggs. Now I just need to get it installed. I'll probably call up my dad.
Today I read the paper, drank some coffee, made breakfast, did a few chores (dishes, laundry), then hit Target for cat-related goodies and some workout pants (the sweatpants from when I was 6 dress sizes larger just weren't cutting it), then went to the gym again (good for me!), where I did the same kind of bike stuff and a couple leg exercises, then got in the hot tub. Then I got lunch at Chipotle (damn their corporate asses, those burritos are GOOD) and came home. Sweetie had taken half the day off, and we took a nap together, then I pretty much went to Smart and Final (see my "Let's Put on a Show" post from a few days ago) and came home and fixed up dinner for us. Now it's almost 6 and Sweetie found a Cops marathon on TV, so guess what's on in the background.
Mom's going out of town for most of a week for my Grandma's 80th birthday, and I'm a little nervous for her, mainly because it's going to be cold and she'll be driving in the snow, but also partly because my grandma's not exactly the great mom that my own is, and this isn't going to be a super-fun vacation for mom. Good luck, though, Mom!
On grandma notes, my other grandma just moved. I'm a little conflicted about it. Part of me is happy that she seems happy, she's moving in with her boyfriend, and she seems excited about it. But part of me is feeling like "what a bad move." The house is a real fixer-upper, the kind of fixing that I wouldn't dare take on at my age and health, and I can't imagine trying to do it at hers. Without my going into a total tirade, the place needs help. Also, I'm glad she seems happy with her boyfriend, but I am one of the many people who can't quite understand why. Admittedly, we all think of my grandfather as a total saint, so it would be hard for any man to live up to him, but let's just say that even if the bar were set lower, I can't imagine this boyfriend reaching it. They don't seem to have a lot in common besides being lonely and old, and he isn't all that respectful of her, at least the way I see it. Like, he totally bashes her taste in decor, and has just bought all new furniture and stuff, saying that they're going to throw her stuff out. That's not very nice, is it? Aren't you supposed to talk over stuff and make decisions together? Well, it's her life, and she's got almost 50 years on me, so I guess if anyone's entitled to make their own mistakes, she is. And maybe I'm just not seeing the whole picture, either. And there's no doubt that a big part of me will miss her house, where I've gone to almost every Christmas celebration of my life, and which is within easy biking distance, unlike her new place. Good luck, Grandma.
Okay, I guess that's about it. Wish me luck selling candy at the postponed Valentine's dance tomorrow. I just love staying two hours after school listening to eardrum-blasting hip hop for a ten dollar profit for costumes and props for a play that may not even happen.
--Mockula out
No comments:
Post a Comment