exercise, age, and Christian fiction

my abs hurt. 
my abs hurt because i thought i would go "easy" on my knees, which are also hurting.  so i bought a yoga video.  i hurt my knees doing a jillian michaels "bun and thigh" video.  and then i bought a jillian michaels yoga video.  and now my knees and my abs hurt. 
or maybe this is just what 37 feels like and i'd be in a lot worse shape if i didn't exercise. 

my kids got a science video from the library, just to watch for fun.  i was thinking back to how incredibly boring science videos were in my day (except for the birth video that i watched right before lunch in grade 10 biology.  i just remember thinking "what am i looking at here?", and then it slowly began to dawn on me.
                                 are
                                     you
                                          KIDDING
                                                          ME!!
I figured the lady must have been amazonian in size to begin with.  there's no way normal lady parts could turn into that.  i'm pretty sure marilynne got my lunch that day, and i, no word of a lie, did not participate in pre-natal classes later in life because i didn't want to re-live this experience).
as i was having this thought process about science boredom, it came to mental light that i also watched 'videos' on film.  on film!  yes, that's what 37 looks like.  i remember watching my teacher trying to thread the film through the projector, cutting the last frame into an angle, turning the knobs.  OH my, i wanted to do that!  i asked a classmate how you learn and they told me you had to be in the audio visual group, and then informed me that if i wanted any social life of any kind i would get the dream of threading a film projector out of my head. 
so i became a teacher instead.  sadly, in the days of VHS.  i have still never experienced projector pleasure. 

i'm currently lost in a good book, and, i must say surprisingly, it's by Ted Dekker.  i was browsing the church library, frankly turning my nose up at the Christian romance section, when a friend suggested this author.  and it's great!  it's got all the elements i love - romance, science fiction, time travel, action, metaphor, beautiful description...i hate that i'm amazed.  i think i'm so tired of "Christian" art being about soaring eagles and back-lit cottages, happy endings and mediocre prose - it's so refreshing to read someone who's actually popular AND good.  praise the Lord!

speaking of, i better go read before the science video ends.  i need to rest my abs anyways.

musings.

i didn't blog last week because i didn't have anything to say.  i know, you're thinking "impossible!" .  the last few weeks have been, well, a bit boring.  scott's worked crazy hours with a conference at the church and i've decided that life is pretty dull without him around.  i start feeling like all i do is sweep the floor and make dinner and knit. 
in reality i've spent lots of time with friends and have painted something beautiful (not finished yet so hold your horses) and have enjoyed my children and welcomed, as optimistically as possible, the cold.  we're filling the house with pumpkins, both real and crafted, and the mittens and toques are up from the basement.  i feel like i'm constantly craving soup or tea or chocolate (the last two never change, they're seasonless).  and i want to paint some walls - does anyone else feel that overwhelming desire once the cold hits?  i'm looking at these beige walls and thinking "this far and no further!". 

scott and i have been watching the new bbc series "upstairs, downstairs" - a  continuation of an old series that ended in the 70's.  it's about the house of a diplomat in England in the 30's - the nazis are coming, the king has just abdicated his throne to his younger brother to run off with a divorcee, and all of the social structures that have existed for generations are about to crumble.  but what i really love to watch are the walls.  teal, robin's egg blue, even ultramarine.  with molding and wainscotting and beautifully patterned wallpaper.  i look at my beige and sigh. 
my favourite part is when my husband and i will be snuggled up on the couch, watching this drama, and he'll exclaim "look at the walls"!  yes, i married the right man.  but will he pick up the paintbrush?  i'll keep you posted.

my son, in kindergarten, was recently sent to the principal's office for having a food fight in the lunch room.  here's the story.
i arrived to pick up my pride and joy and was greeted by his teacher who had that look on her face.  eyes sympathetic, eyebrows angled back, lips horizontally stretched, teeth exposed, and a slight inhale through them so that you hear that hissing sound.  "it's been a rough afternoon".  my heart drops.  i look at my son, who is giving my his best look of innocence.  i swear he's been perfecting the gaze of a hound dog. he starts explaining.
"noah wanted me to eat his blueberries"
                                   "okay"
"he kept trying to give them to me"
                                   "alright"
   the teacher steps in "where did the blueberries end up?"
"on the floor"
                                    "i see"
    teacher:  "and then where did your ketchup go?"
"on noah"
                                   "oh, dear"
"and then he used me as a human napkin"
                                   "oh, my"
    teacher:  "and then where did you go?"
"i don't remember"
    teacher:  "the principal's office?"
"oh,
       yes. 
                the principal's office."
(the teacher looks at me with gravity)
                    "and were you scared when you had to go there?"
"no.  she's nice.  i like her hair.  it's brown!"

well.  obviously he's learned his lesson.
scott has been assuring me that he practically lived at the principal's office, but somehow, i'm not assured. 

it sucks when you know that your child could be the most amazing person on earth, but they're keeping it a secret. 
and least he gives me stories for blog entries.  i suppose i should count my blessings.

well i'm off to enjoy sabbath with  my man.  may your walls have colour and your children's shirts by ketchup-free.

 

grow up

when will i grow up?
my parents were here for the Thanksgiving weekend (which i'm very thankful for) and before they came i told myself "self, you are no longer a child.  you will not revert to being a child when you're parents are under your roof".  "ok" answered my self, and i thought the pep talk had gone rather well.  then i started cleaning - floors, bathrooms, walls, cupboards, you name it i touched it with a Norwex cloth.  i told myself "it's not because i'm trying to prove something, it's just a part of hospitality".  i lied to myself. 
i bought a turkey, using my club Sobeys points, and told myself "it's more for the soup afterwards than the big show at Thanksgiving and using my points is a wise use of my resources".  liar. 
i wrapped said turkey in bacon after rubbing it down with chili powder, and i stuffed it with sage and apple and onion and i cooked it.  i then made stock from the bones and made my soup the next day and waffles for breakfast and prime rib for dinner and analyzed everything i said to my children or didn't say or did or didn't do and swept the floor constantly and pointed out my recent accomplishments.  stop it self.  seriously.  stop.
after i kissed my parents out the door this morning i thought "where did i go wrong this weekend?".  i sat down with my Bible and was offered this little nugget of truth:  i was so busy trying to earn my parents approval, i failed to see where they could have used mine.  i was serving them to serve myself, and missed the whole point. 
it would have been more honouring to my mother to ask her to teach me how she makes her turkey (which always tastes awesome) instead of striving with my own recipe in order to hear my father say "this is the best turkey i've ever had!".  which he didn't say, because he loves my mom.  and i didn't realize until today that those words would have insulted her, since he's been eating her turkey for over 40 years. 
when will i ever grow up?  when will i begin to put the needs of others before myself?  to see their needs and desires and hopes, and not just my own?  when will i be motivated by the truth of who i am in Christ - loved, accepted, with a purpose for my life and a unique personality fashioned by my Maker?   when will i care more about caring for others, then caring that they see how i'm caring for them?  i sound like a lunatic.  i acted like my five year old who will ask me for a glass of juice when i'm in the middle of simultaneously making dinner, cleaning the kitchen and counselling a friend on the phone.
get your own juice!
and self, get over your constant need of approval!!

i think pms is also in play here.  it seems that in my late thirties there are some months when i literally loose my mind for a few days.  my poor husband tiptoes around me on his toad-webbed feet, praying for the day he will return to his prince charming status.  my kids don't hide it, the look in their eyes is fear.  and they have good reason - mom is off her rocker.  i think it's pre-menopause, which means that when menopause finally hits you may just need to send me to a nice quiet place with a couple hundred books and a cupboard of tea.  as my friend Kandy would say in her perfect Alabaman accent "it's on".

when my mom hugged me she said "stay well rested" but for some reason i heard "stay big breasted".  i laughed and said "too late for that!".  she laughed and said "they'll come".

i think my mom sees my childhood state as well.

bike dreams

we did it.

when we first moved here i had a conversation with a friend who was telling me about all the wonderful things to do in saskatoon.  one of the many things she mentioned was the bike trails - she talked of how her and her family would bike from our community to downtown saskatoon, have a meal or go for ice cream, and then bike back. she made it sound recreational.  effortless.  she started me dreaming.

i have had my bike, flavia, for over a year now.  we've done a few trips to the zoo next door, to the school, or just around the neighbourhood.  i love being on flavia.  i love the wind in my face (but keep your mouth closed even though you're smiling with joy and exertion - bugs don't feel great going down!), my heart pumping, my legs working, feeling alive and well and child-like.  it's like i'm in my own "participaction" commercial. 

scott got a bike on the weekend.  i suggested the name "ernst", because it seems to work with flavia and it's an onomatopoeia for the feeling of riding a bike.  ernst. he didn't go for it.  my husband believes that inanimate objects should not be named - not that they shouldn't have names, they just should not be given names.  he feels that a name should just "happen", through circumstance, or conversation - in a moment when you're  not thinking of directly naming something.  for example, his car.  it growls. when you are idling it has this vroom-vroom-vroom, like it's accelerating when it's standing still.  sometimes i fear that if my foot isn't on the brake hard enough it's just going to take right off.  on one of our dates out we were talking about this idiosyncrasy, how it sounds like a jungle cat, like a lion...and that night the car was named "pedro", after a washington band from scott's youth "pedro the lion". 

for the sake of this blog entry, i'm calling the bike ernst. 

so, scott and i, and flavia and ernst, lived the dream yesterday.  we biked from our home, through our neighbourhood, into the grasslands/dogpark, down to the river, across the bridge, travelled along the riverbank until we reached the downtown core, hooked up just past the bessborough hotel, and landed at solueio foods.  we both had a steak salad and carrot brie soup for lunch (!!!), then made the trek back.  it was glorious.  it was NOT effortless.

i think the longest bike ride i've taken, since my childhood many moons ago, was probably 15 minutes or so.  i biked hard for close to an hour yesterday - scott thinks around 10 miles.  i'm sure i have a lovely bruise the exact shape and size of my bike seat on my derriere.  by the time we made it home i was literally giving myself a pep talk for every push on my pedals.  which was funny, because on our way out we saw this guy running and i said to scott "he looks like he's running away" - his arms were flapping and his feet were slapping the pavement and his eyes were a little terrified.  scott said "he's running flat-footed.  he's exhausted".  well, i was biking flat-footed when we pulled into our driveway.  i painfully extricated myself from flavia.  scott said "i could go for a run right now".  i though we was joking, but no, he wasn't.  i love my husband but sometimes i want to punch him.

thanks to an epsom salts bath (how do those magic salts do it?!) i am able to move today, but every time i sit down it's like a lovely little reminder.  it was wonderful, especially accomplishing that with scott.  much more fun than working out with jillian michaels. 

and i'm pretty sure flavia winked at me on my way out of the garage.  or maybe she was winking at ernst?