Monday, August 8, 2011

If a man has an opinion and a woman is not around to hear it, is he still wrong?

It was a long week.  Stevie took himself off to the hinter land to rub grimy elbow with the unwashed at the Solano County Fair and  left me to my own devices...which is never good, n.e.v.e.r.  Not that I had anything at all interesting to do.  Dear reader, I know you count on me to provide riveting vignettes of my life in the fast lane, but even a diva must take some time off.   So I spent a week doing very mundane things.

Take Monday for instance.  I met the youngest daughter for lunch with the little grand urchins.  Her treat. So we went to this Thai place that really should have had a big old sign out front that stated clearly that children were not welcome.  This became somewhat important when within five minutes, I mean we didn't even have water yet, Mr. Silas pushed the four foot tall wooden goddess of something off her plinth and sent her crashing to the floor.  Upon impact her various bits when rolling hither and thither about the place and I was like "dang Si, really?"  and the mother unit was all "@!#$%^&*()@#%$^&*Silas#$%#$%^#$% little#%^&$%^&$%^)"  Fairly impressive string of invective from the usually serene one.  I was all for bailing out at this point, but the restaurateurs figured that now we'd broken the focal point of their decorating scheme well then by God we were going to sit and pay money for food.  So we did that.  Hurriedly.

Later that day, I found myself at the gym staring in horror at the pool where a group of ancients, I mean peers, were flopping about in anticipation of the "new class"  water in motion.  So essentially what you are meant to do is perform an aquatic ballet in the water listening to dreadful music from the 80's.  I dutifully floundered with my fellow enthusiasts for the requisite hour all the while thinking what the hell am I doing?  With some relief the hour ended and that was Monday.  Gracious sakes alive.

Tuesday, the ennui continued, except I went back to the gym and spent 40 minutes climbing hills randomly on the treadmill whilst listening to some extraordinarily  boring novel on my Ipod.  The Ipod is a wonderful device whereby you can effectively tune out the entire world via your content and a pair of ear phones.  It goes everywhere with me.  I even have a dock in my car where it lives when not being banged about at the gym.

What happened Wednesday.  Oh right.  The offspring of the spouse was in her last few days of residence at Chez evil step mammie so the middle daughter, remember her...Chang?  decided we should have a farewell dinner for her.  So we did that.  They ate gross stuff like beet salad with goat cheese and goat cheese and prosciutto pizza, goat cheese this and goat cheese that and it is all revolting to me and I had a salad.  At least no one broke anything.  And when I got home I rounded that off with a pint of Hagen Daz, strawberry if you must know.

Thursday I had an appointment at the gym with my personal trainer.  Now this isn't nearly as groovy as having a personal trainer who exercises for you, not this one, you have to make a date and she stands around and counts while you lift weights for a million repetitions using various torture devices designed to make you feel inadequate as if sweating like a, oh gross I can't go on, like you need to feel any more inadequate whilst wearing the spandex of the day in front of a ripped 20 something year old who won a basketball scholarship to the Air Force Academy and has zero body fat.  Say what you will about being curvy, it's all body fat.  So because I hadn't been humiliated enough she decided I'd lost weight from my little accident and thought it would be demeaning to take all my measurements and check out the body fat percentages.  Good news, I've lost 20 something pounds.  Bad new, it's all muscle weight.  So basically I look the same but fat being lighter than muscle is the main ingredient. @#$%&* and )(*&^% and @#$%@#$%#$%.  So trainer girl smiled maliciously and told me I needed to perform a daily routine and designed a new schedule that is somewhat trying and the expectation is that I will grow muscle, lose fat, gain weight.  Not sure where the benefit is in all that.  How much muscle does it take to get a pint of ice cream out of the freezer anyway?

Not much happened Friday either.  Oh, wait, I went to see the last Harry Potter movie.  By myself.  Neat.  So I walked into the theater and it was completely empty, like I was the only person there.  And I thought to myself, "I should call Shirley!"  So I did.  You know how you really hate the person talking on the cell phone in restaurants and say movie theaters?  Yeah, that was me happily and obliviously nattering on about picture hanging and discussing bad horses and lunging and this and that all the while the theater was filling up.  I'd like to know what happened to me be alone in the theater.  Well whatever.  So I told Shirley I'd call her back in the manana and hung up just in time for the endless previews of movies yet to be released.  Like I'm going to remember to go see any of them.  Except there is a new Sherlock Holmes coming out in November I think.  The spouse and I will no doubt find our way to a theater nearby for a viewing.  Anyway, back to Harry Potter.  You should know that I've read all the books and because that's not enough, I've also listened to them on CD.  The guy who  reads them is fantastic and I could listen to his voice forever.   Back to the subject, I pretty much know every line and circumstance of every book.  I'd say this movie covered the basics, but left out about 75% of the back material.  Of course when the book is on CD it takes something like 21 hours to get through, perhaps a wee bit long for a sit down in a movie theater surrounded by strangers.  Good job that they broke it up eh?  I note with fascination that "they" are going to subject us to two parts of the final "Twilight" movie.  Good grief, really?

Ah Saturday, I took myself off to whine country to ride the magnificent Kilo at horse show moms estate and also to give her daughter offspring a little lesson on the flat, which means I taught her a riding lesson not jumping.  So all that was fine.  Then I scampered off to Petaluma in hopes of catching Shirley in a jump lesson with her trainer, but alas, was too late for that entertainment, but I did get a chance to catch up with Andrea and that is always fun.  We inspected her horse trailer as it had been subject to a hailstorm of biblical proportions last spring and the dents in the roof make it look like a million egg poachers,  Fairly impressive.  Evidently the truck was victim to the same type of damage.  This is what doing a good turn for someone will get you... 

Which brings us to yesterday.  I didn't do anything but lounge around, surf the Internet and finally and thankfully finished Steve Tyler's book.  I have nothing good to say about that treatise except it is understandable why so many rockers die at age 27. 

So the spouse comes home today/tonight sometime so I must go vacuum or something.  I must also prepare myself for house sitting in Petaluma beginning Thursday.  I have been ordered to hang pictures at the casa.  That should be fun.  With the way things rattle around in my head, imagine what I can do with nails and a blank wall.  Awesome


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