We had our Flip Fitness class tonight, and we had a few more people than last week which was great.I don’t know if it was due to a slight cool front that had moved through.It made the exercising a little more tolerable.
Our instructor,Jackie was there along with Jess, the young instructor who will have us for the nest two weeks.Jackie is going on vacation so we get to break Jess in solo. It’s funny, because Jackie started the class and then handed the class over to Jess.We were kind of razzing her last week about being so young, but she does know her stuff!
We keep busting on Jackie that each exercise that she has us do, there is a certain number of repetitions we have to do. Well, when Jackie does the count, the numbers go flying magically out the window. We usually do up to a count of ten when we do repetitions.Jackie doesn’t care for anything but ten. We decided to keep a loud verbal count so she’d know we know how to count too!
I have met some good friends through the class, and it’s great to be out among women who are enjoying some time together working on ourselves.We forget that, though, because laughter, being the best medicine, makes our hearts happy and the rest of the body falls in line.
Getting the body moving? It’s good to be able to do it!
I am climbing on my soapbox again to talk about my daily commute.
Back in my prior life, when we lived two blocks away from the train station, life was sunny. A nice morning train, a brisk walk to work;in short, no worries.
Then our house sold and we moved two miles further from the train.There lies the rub: the bus.
I honestly hate the commute. In order to get into the city I take the bus onto an expressway, where I lose forty-five minutes to an hour one way.It irks me because it is time I’ll never get back again in my life.Traffic usually sucks.If you aren’t entertained by someones’ blow by blow description of how their life is going, how their **fill in the blank here: sex life, date life,third marriage is going, well,I know, I know, read or something** Well, there’s only so much to read or listen to. I refuse to be chained to Verizon and use my hot spot to be on-line. Then, when the bus reaches center city, I get off the bus and wait for a second bus.
Did I mention I hate personal trivial conversations on a cell phone on public transportation?
Fortunately, I hope to God I get through this last stretch before I retire taking public transit. Pretty sad when I get to “treat” myself, thanks to my Flip Fitness class and physical therapy,and walk to the train station to get on a train that spares me the expressway.The indignity is I have to get OFF the train to get back on a bus to get home.
I won’t miss this at all.
Talk about a rough Monday.
It has gotten to the point that we can’t bring ourselves to come up on Sunday nights anymore. We are really in no hurry to come back to the city, I mean, after all, we ARE home.Why should we rush up to get away from home?
So the above picture is of what has been our past two Monday mornings. It’s a shot of the dawn traffic coming back up from the shore into the city.It’s bad enough that you are bleary eyed enough, trying to wake up and face a brand new day, but then, to add insult into injury, you have to make a 90 mile drive back into a sea of humanity.
The only comforting thing that we have is that there is, indeed, a time stamp on how much longer we have to make this trip.True, we talk in the car about the fact that someday, maybe, just maybe, we’ll miss making this trip…..I doubt it.
If you remember in a previous post, the former Shingleman, Jim, now known as Compostman, has gotten into organic gardening. I, for one, am shocked at the degree that plants are coming up in the grow station where he planted them. Perhaps it is the compost,I don’t know. We have tomato plants, pepper plants, peas, beans, kale and other things planted there.
Today Compostman resurfaced, and decided to make a raised flower bed.This was due to the fact that we got another round of seeds.He decided to used materials left over by the builders when they were done here at Undisclosed. He worked for a few hours, amidst the mosquitoes, humidity and sun, and did exactly what he set out to do. We went out and got more soil so we could finish it off properly, and he planted carrots, cucumbers and winter squash.
I admire my Compostman. He has embraced the idea and to see things actually growing is quite rewarding.He’s a good guy.
Below is a shot of our new garden bed!
“I was twenty-one years when I wrote this song.
I’m twenty-two now but I won’t be for long
Time hurries on.
And the leaves that are green turn to brown….”
Paul Simon wrote these lyrics for a Simon and Garfunkel hit circa 1966 called ” Leaves that are Green”.I thought this was an appropriate start for the blog numbered 1,000.
I started this blog in 2011, when I was 51 years old. I was sharing care-giving duties for my Mom with Dementia with my brother.I was married for 9 years back then. I had crappy knees and was waiting to get knee replacements.And yes, I was thinner,
So on the occasion of this blog #1000, so much has changed.
Mom is gone, I am happily married, next month, for 12 years. I have new knees and a belly because emotion still gets the best of me.I am working on that, though, and trying to get things together.
Jim and I have a new home and we’ll be occupying full-time in a few months.I, knock wood, am on the road to retirement.My girls are still with me: Zush is 12 and Kasia is 5. Jim and I are trying to set up housekeeping and farming down here at Undisclosed.The emotions are mixed at folding up our tent and leaving the big city, but more times than not, we are more than ready to leave it behind.
This blog has been therapy for me to vent and also to keep the memories of what has happened, be it good, bad or indifferent. It also has been a way for me to share my stories and experiences with you, dear reader.Thanks for reading and being here for me. I appreciate the fact that you check in with me and the family. For that you have my thanks and a giant hug.
And to quote the tag line from the Beverly Hillbillies…”You all come back now, hear?”
All my life my summers have involved tomatoes.
When I was little, and we would go down the shore, Dad would always stop at farm stands for New Jersey tomatoes.My mother would roll her eyes after a while, but she kept quiet because she loved them as much as he did.
The backyard of the house where we lived had a plot to plant in and of course, tomatoes were involved. My Dad was even one of those people who when they came upon a type of tomato that they like, Dad would save the seeds on a paper towel and when they dried up, he would put them in a brown envelope, mark the type of tomato on the front, and you could bet they’d be planted nest season.
Dad is no longer here, and he would have appreciated the fact that I am over the bridge and close to water.More importantly, I have successfully planted my first, bona fide, home-grown Jersey tomato.It gave up its’ life for us for dinner tonite and it was tasty.
Dad? This one’s for you.
After the work day was over today, I was beat.
I decided to get to bed early and get some sleep. I have some minor procedure scheduled for tomorrow and figured I’d try to get a good night sleep.
It is a cool night tonight,and the air conditioning is off.Yet I can’t sleep. My mind just won’t shut off and I am tossed and turned out.I think part of the tossing is that I am wishing we were down the house, so we could sleep on our real bed,after a real shower with water that won’t scald you.
Is it 2015 yet?**counting the days**