Bull in a China Shop

SERVING UP HOT STEAMING PLATES OF CRAP ON THE GOOD DISHES

Monday, March 14, 2005

Health? What's that?

I don't know as I have ever really thought long and hard about my health. I am not much of a planner, and I tend to sort of fly by the seat of my pants, but as I grow older I discovered that I might want to be thinking about maintaining this here vessel.

I've done my share of working out, and for the most part I really enjoyed it. But I was always doing it for the vain reason of wanting to look better. I never thought much about the physical benefits, like keeping my heart healthy or my muscles strong. So, I am rapidly approaching 38, having sat on the couch every day for the last few years, and I realize I really need to move more. I have had some recent incidents in which I have had chest pain when I am stressed. My neck and left arm bother me, my eyes sometimes feel like there is so much pressure in them they might pop. Now, before you jump in and tell me what is wrong with me, I have been to my doctor. He says I am fine. However, he saw me for about 15 minutes, asked me some questions, took my blood pressure, did an EKG and this was what he said to me.

"You look pretty healthy to me, and none of the tests show anything so, I think you just need to get out and take a walk around the block."

Hmmm. I am unsatisfied by this response. I feel better knowing I don't have high blood pressure, which I was sure I had. But, he didn't do any blood tests. What about cholesterol? Diabetes? I just don't think you can look at me for 10 minutes and do a 5 minute EKG and tell me I am fine. Aside from his opinion, I decided to start doing a better job maintaining myself. I started walking with my neighbor in the mornings, for 30 minutes. I am eating better. (I have sworn off cheese for a while because that is my favorite thing to eat, in all forms.) And drinking less. As a matter of fact, drinking barely interests me anymore. I am shocked at this revelation, yet pleased as well.

Since my husband's accident I have noticed that the same things don't bother me anymore. When you have looked death in the face, or seen it in someone else's face, a lot of the petty stuff doesn't matter. And holding on dearly to this amazing gift called life becomes so much more important. So from here on out, I am striving to make my "life" better. You may read some exercise updates, or a list of foods I have eaten, because this blog is ultimately for me. However, if you have ideas or suggestions about staying on a healthy path, I welcome the comments.

So, here's to life!

Tuesday, March 01, 2005

Apparently, I've broken his dog

When I met the man who became my (2nd) husband, I was absolutely delighted to find that he and his daughter had a dog; a beautiful 75 pound, red haired bundle of energy. Champ is half golden retriever, half collie and 100% spaz. I had a German Shepard as a child, his name was Frosty, but he was a little too big and too strong for me to really get cuddly. I have ached for a dog ever since. I am not just a dog lover, I am obsessed. I have a well worn copy of the book that lists all the different breeds. I know them all. I wanted to train dogs for search and rescue, for drug or bomb sniffing, or for therapy. I. LOVE. DOGS.

So, I join this happy family of Speedy (hubby,) Smarty (his daughter), and Spaz, and I am thrilled to have what I always wanted:
INSTANT FAMILY!
Just add water!
Comes with handsome husband,
intelligent and sassy daughter,
energetic dog,
and a beautiful, medium sized ranch for storage!
Some assembly required.
Well, no one told me its not that simple. OK, LOTS of people told me that, but I didn't listen. Nope. I, in my idealistic way, believed whole heartedly that my situation was going to be different. But, I am getting off the subject.. I was trying to pay homage to my dog. That's right... MY dog. Champ (AKA: Spaz) is MY dog now. Both Speedy and Smarty would beg to differ, but I am telling you, HE'S MINE. When I sit down he lays at my feet. Now that's not unusual, I understand. But I just can't keep my hands off of him. I love to pet him. I have to have my foot touching him when he is near me. I can't help but talk to him when he looks into my eyes, or is waiting patiently by the door to be let out. And he is equally attached to me. He respects Speedy, but he LOVES me. I wish he respected me... but I admit I spoiled this poor beast by lavishing him with all of my love. He can't possibly respect a person who speaks to him in gibberish and often asks his opinion on things (in English.) How can he respect someone who allows him on the couch or on the bed when the Alpha Dog isn't home? I am sorry Champ. I have committed the sin of loving too much, and thus I have confused you. Now you get yelled at by the Alpha Dog for doing what I allow you to do. I can't explain the depths of my shame. Please forgive me, furry one. But, you know that I get yelled at by the Alpha Dog too, because I just can't seem to follow the rules either. Perhaps that is why I feel as if we are kindred spirits, and why I love you so. And why I keep turning to you to feel that unconditional love you give so freely. We're not broken, Champ. We're just little worn out, that's all. We'll be just fine.