Pressing Play

On Sunday, I cleaned my house from top to bottom with all the new Norwex stuff that arrived last week. Dare I say…it was kind of fun. And I have never had the cleanest house on the block. Funny because I have almost the least number of kids. But squatting to clean toilet bowls and lunging to wipe ceiling fan blades was a lot of work and I deemed it my workout for the day. Also, it took 6 hours. If anyone has done the math on that and figured out that I burned anything less than 1250 calories, I don’t want to know. But it did spur me back into motion after a few days off and that’s exactly what I needed.

On Monday, I spent 30 minutes on the elliptical, watching a TED Talk about a neuropsychologist who could recount in alarming detail every emotion she experienced during her stroke. (And I just have to pause here and say that I didn’t know if I was going to make it through her whole talk. Her voice is what I imagine it would sound like if Fran Drescher swallowed Big Bird. And for a fleeting moment I thought, because she was focusing so much of her talk on the right brain functions versus the left brain, that it was all fake and she was going to have a normal voice…which would prove some theory that we only want to hear what we want to hear (or maybe don’t want to hear)…or some such thing . But no. That was not the case. I made it through and it was worth it. But if you have a nagging case of Misophonia, you may just want to use the closed captioning.)

Anyway, I finished my half hour, did some ab work and showered, feeling pretty good about what I had just pulled off behind the garage door, even though summer has returned to southern California.

On Tuesday, I decided to try a 40 minute kickboxing class from PopSugar on YouTube. I jabbed, hooked, cross-body punched and roundhouse kicked for 30 minutes, but with 10 minutes left on the timer, my left ovary punched back. It may have also given me the finger and that chin flick thing the Italians do. I pushed pause. And then I turned the TV off altogether. My body had said, “No” and I had to respect that.

OK, look, if you’re a dude reading this, just skip to the next paragraph. And no, I’m not going to insert a sentence in the middle about how we will rise up and rally at midnight. You don’t want to know this about a woman’s body, I assure you. So, what is it about ovulation that is so annoyingly inconsistent? Some months, the only reason I realize anything is happening mid-month is because I’m counting the seconds until Blue goes to bed so we can lock his door and turn on the sexy music. Other times, whichever side I’m ovulating from aches with intermittent throbs and I eat through my entire stash of baking chocolate. What is that all about? I don’t always know which side I’m ovulating from, but dammit I did yesterday. There was no doubt. So, I did the only holistic thing I knew…I grabbed the Dragon Time and put like 8 drops across my lower abdomen with an extra drop over the left ovary to encourage it to straighten up and fly right.


Twenty minutes later, I felt great again. But now I was starving. Trying to fit in a workout between my meals has proven to be more challenging than I had anticipated.

Wednesday morning, with a full schedule of blogging, a hair appointment, grocery shopping for the week, laundry and Cub Scout camp-out prep work, I knew that it was a morning workout or no workout. So, I found Coach Kozak and his charming wife, Claudia, of HasFit fame on YouTube…and I pressed play. A 28-minute full-body strength training session that had me dripping sweat within the first 8 minutes. My new mantra is, “I can do anything for 30 minutes.” I would make a terrible prisoner of war. Fortunately for me, I guess, I don’t know anything. Also, if I was ever a POW, I would have Coach Kozak’s voice in my head saying, “Those who think they can and those who think they can’t are both right. Which one are you?” If this whole fitness thing doesn’t work out for that guy, I believe he could have a pretty lucrative career as a life coach…or a televangelist.


And when it was over, at least I was done for the day. And that’s my only goal at this moment: be consistent. Whatever it is, do it everyday. Except eating crap and skipping workouts…maybe not do that everyday. But how many 30-minute chunks of time do I whittle away, scrolling through Facebook or Instagram, looking up Halloween appetizers on Pinterest or trying to obliterate Mom on Words With Friends? More than 1. One of those 30-minute segments needs to be reassigned to a workout where at least one bead of sweat hits the floor.

I’ve also started thinking about Ruth Bader Ginsburg, doing triceps extensions on a stability ball with her personal trainer. No, really…that’s a thing…


Thanks for this, Glamour!

If I can do one thing to be more like the #NotoriousRBG, let it be triceps extensions.

Also, a thin layer of orange-y smog has settled in the bay between us and Catalina Island. I’m convinced that’s why everyone around here is suddenly suffering from allergy symptoms and ear infections. So, I’ve started diffusing Purification to clear the air each day and RC (Respiratory Comfort) at night to help with congestion and inflammation. Honestly, even though it’s a pleasant surprise to see Catalina Island emerge from its shroud of clouds, viewing it now through the thin veil of a putrid fog makes my airways constrict on sight. I think it may be time for that second diffuser.


On Thursday, I did Zumba. With the garage door open. Did I mention the lawn guys were mulling around? I’m not sure why since Wednesday is grass-cutting day, but boy did they get an eye full. Hip swivels and chest gyrations…booty shakes and wrist twists. The Zumba instructor on the YouTube video didn’t give any directions so I just had to try to keep up, which is like trying to converse in Italian when I can only kind of speak French. But I was absolutely dripping the sweat, more than I have all week, so there’s that.


What else am I loving right now?

This recipe for Sticky Pomegranate Chicken and Honey Roasted Acorn Squash

I made this homemade nutella this afternoon. I just need some pretzel sticks and I’m good to go.

And this book my bestie sent this week:


She also sent the 2019 desk calendar, for when I need a daily reminder of what a badass I am. (Like today when I accidentally bought a third jar of Sunflower butter and took up 2.3 parking spots at Sprouts.) (Also, that has to be the most millennial sentence I’ve ever written.)

Over the weekend, I plan on finishing strong with Yoga and another stab at kickboxing. Maybe some Pilates. Maybe Yogalatesboxing. Punch jab om exhale. Namaste, motherforkers!



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