Sometimes I think the only real obstacle to losing this weight (other than my screwed up knee) is my head...
Because, as I have said before, I let myself get in my own way.
It's a head game, this weight loss...
First, you have to get it in your head that you WANT to do it...and this is for anything...weight loss, fitness, getting rid of bad habits, training to do something like a triathalon, etc.
Then you have to get it in your head you CAN do it. You can't let yourself stand in your own way.
I know I blog endlessly about how much I love my trainer Dimples and my "J-girls" (instructors at my health club) but I cannot say enough about how much it helps me when they motivate me.
Dimples is always telling me that I CAN do something...or I CAN do a few more...or to at least try something. But so often just when I am about to get in my own way with something, he says the RIGHT something to me to keep me going.
And now he sends "tweets" (yes, I finally am learning about Twitter thanks to my Dimples). It's a good way for him to keep in touch of his bootcamp clients but also to send motivating and positive messages to his clients and followers.
Messages like this (remember twitter limits you to 140 characters so you have to use shorthand):
U must believe absolutely that u're not only capable of achieving your desired goal, but also that it's only a matter of time before you do
I'm keeping that on my phone...to look at when I need it...because I often need it.
You can follow him on twitter too if you want...just sign up for:
@jessetraining
So today I did a 90 minute spin class AFTER I did the new launch of Body Pump 76.
I was a bit intimidated about it...until I realized that last Friday after the one icicle shut down Houston that I gave myself a spin class that lasted over 90 minutes.
But I almost let my head stand in my way...I almost told myself I couldn't do it.
Thankfully my knee did NOT tell me I couldn't do it!
It was 2:35 minutes of exercise...
I got through it...piece of cake...which helped me resist the piece of cake that I really really really wanted to eat at GOTTPARENTS 50TH Anniversary party (woo-hoo...50 years of wedded bliss to an amazing couple with amazing kids and grandkids...love love love them...).
I wanted that cake. It looked good. My stomach said "yes, yes, yes" but thankfully this time the game going on in my head was a good one and my head said "no no no". And I told GOTTESS to keep me away from it.
GOTTSISTERS didn't recognize me...they haven't seen me since last spring...one of them said "you looked familiar but I didn't think it was you"...
love that...
love her for saying it...
For some people that would feel awful, but to my thinking, it is great. I'm happy that I look different.
So I was watching Oprah the other day (duh...when do I NOT watch Oprah?)and she had Jennifer Hudson on.
Jennifer Hudson has gone from a size 16 to a 6. She's lost 85 pounds. She looks amazing.
I've lost more weight but I've had (and still have) more to lose.
She's always been beautiful.
As I looked at her I tried to be honest with myself and see if I thought she was really more beautiful because she is thinner...or am I just trained to think so because that is what is accepted as pretty---thin.
I decided that to my eyes, and my head, she is NOT MORE beautiful...she just looks good...and healthy...and happy.
She talked about how it really plays with your head when you lose the weight. How she walks into stores and picks up things that are the wrong size because they are TOO BIG for her.
Now that is a head game I also play...
When I walked into Victoria's Secret for the first time in 8+ years a few weeks ago I had to talk myself into it the whole way through the mall. And I was afraid I was going to go in there and be told that nothing would fit so I should try Lane Bryant. And I was afraid that I was going to find that I looked like a fool.
But I didn't...and I have a drawer full of new undergarments to prove it.
I was at my favorite store "Lucy" a few weeks ago...I grabbed some pants in in XL and the girl helping me said "no, you need a large...that will be too big".
When I went into the dressing room and the pants fit, I cried.
In my head, I am still a plus-sized girl.
But my body is not...
It's a head game...and I could totally relate to what Jennifer was saying to Oprah about it.
She (Jennifer) also said that she loves trying on new clothes and wearing her new clothes. I can relate to that too...I can't believe I actually fantasize about some of my skirts...that I can actually wear them. I started going through my clothes the other day and realized that I better TRY things on because my brain was saying "no way" but the zipper would go up and my body would say "way...".
Today, after the LONG workout, I met my Aunt Jane (the BEST PERSON IN THE WOLRD) and her friend CAT (Cute and Tiny) for lunch. They had a gift for me.
Jane had taken the photos she took of us (and me) on top of the hill I climbed at our camp reunion. You know...the 218 steps...
For those of you who did not read that blog ("Climb Every Mountain"), I'll give you the 10 second explanation:
When I once couldn't catch my breath after going up 24 steps with a teacher friend I realized that I needed to change my life. So I did. So 6 months later when I climbed 218 steps and didn't DIE, it felt like a big big big deal.
When we got to the top of the hill we prayed and took photos. So Jane gave me the photos today in a frame. To remind me of what I have and will still accomplish.
I cried with joy from the love and beauty of the gift.
Like I said, she is the best person in the world...
and that might be one of the most amazing gifts I have ever received...
And I'm putting it on my nightstand...not because I look good in the photos (in fact, I look awful...no make-up and still around 230 pounds), but rather to remind me what I have done and what I can do.
It's like the tweets I get from Dimples...little reminders to my brain that I can do what I have set out to do.
Now one game I play in my head that will probably only ever be in my head and not reality is a fantasy...and that is ok...fantasies are good! They help move us forward. You all know mine:
Oprah invites me to be on her show to tell how I have lost weight and blogged about it and she gives me a Vera Wang gown to wear because I once met Vera and told her I wanted to wear one of her gowns when I lose weight...
That little fantasy is a head game that is all for fun...but it helps motivate me too...
because...
I don't want to stand in my own way:
to finish an exercise in training
to do a long spin class
to try something new with Dimples
to try on new clothes in a smaller size
to walk into a store that intimidates me
to put on something I haven't worn in 9 years
to dress to show off my hard work
to wear my mom's Vera Wang dress and rock it
Because the only thing stopping me is in my head...not my body...
It's all head games...and I am pretty good at those kinds of games (physical games...notsomuch)...
in fact, I usually win...
I think I'm gonna win this one...like my Dimples says: "it's just a matter of time"...
Inspiration Song: JayVee served up Foreigner's "Head Games" today in the 90 minute master class for spin...it was the perfect song at the 80 minute mark...she's so amazing...
Bye Darlings...win your head game...
Showing posts with label FMGC. Show all posts
Showing posts with label FMGC. Show all posts
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Moon River
FMGC Reunion Blog---Part 2...about one month late! But I am finally able to write it...
So where did I leave off?
Oh yes...
218 steps
218 steps up Old Baldie (the mini-mountain/big hill)
So we get down from the hill/mountain and realize that we have a lot further/longer to walk to get back to the campsite than we have time for...because they are holding lunch for us.
Someone got out their cell phone and made a call and about 10 minutes later 3 cars showed up to pick up the crazy ladies...at least we weren't 15 women piled in the back of a Dodge Ram pickup truck...
Here's the best part...I got to ride in MB's car. Now I don't know why that is such a big deal to me but for some reason I remember thinking I wanted to ride in her car when she was my counselor. So she shows up and I go running straight to HER car because by damn I was going to ride in HER car!
I sat in the back with Tink and just kept saying "I am riding in MBR's car!"...it was just joy...and I don't know why...
So we get back to the camp and eat lunch and then it was time to go to the REAL Friday Mountain Girls Camp property.
For some reason everyone took off without Jane and I...thank goodness for cell phones...we caught up pretty quickly...
After a wrong turn or two we ended up where we needed to be...
Hallowed ground...
FMGC
Friday Mountain Girls Camp!
The cabins were gone but the owner of the property had restored the "Big House" (where we ate) and...
and I still can't believe this as I type it...
the Nature cabin was still standing!
That old thing was old and dilapidated when I was a camper so it is truly a miracle (or Act of God) that it is still standing.
The pool is still there...
Tennis courts and flagpole and gymnastics area are no longer there but...and again I can't believe this as I type this...
the bell was still there!
And yes, we all took turns ringing it.
So we began to wander around...each of us lost in our own thoughts and memories.
Tears flowed freely...laughter abounded...lots of hugging and holding...
Inside the Big House the new owner had pulled out some old photos he had...and the cabin signs for many of the cabins were up on the wall.
I stepped outside to see Elizabeth rocking in a chair...in tears...overwhelmed with love for the place we all called "home" for a few weeks each summer.
The screen door slammed behind me...we both jumped a bit and smiled...and then I said:
"Isn't that the BEST SOUND EVER?!?!!?"
She said: "Do it again"
So I did...over and over...and MB did it with me. It made many of us tear up to hear that sound of the door...because we could remember walking through it to get our meals and hearing it shut behind us until the next girl grabbed the door.
We set out for the creek and the horse lot and the place where we had church every Sunday.
I cried at each spot...except that thankfully the horselot shed was gone and it was really over the fence and I wasn't technically standing in the horse lot...and it made me cry with memories of my horrible riding...and the Eagle Drill...
We stood where we had church...it is truly a place of God...so beautiful and peaceful...and I could hear the prayers of our pasts as we sat there...I could hear the beautiful voices of our younger selves worshipping God and being grateful for that very very special place.
Many of us took off our shoes and waded in the creek.
The first thing I did:
LOOK FOR LEECHES
For some stupid reason I was terrified of leeches...and there where leeches on the sides of the crossing (which is gone now) and leeches in the water. I was totally terrified that a leech was going to get on me. The Daddy-Long-Legs never scared me and I wasn't worried about scorpions (although someone was stung in the cabin every year) but I was really afraid a leech was going to suck out all my blood.
It was a stupid fear...
I reminded Julie (the camp director and one of the greatest influences on my life) of my silly fear...she just laughed...I felt like I was confessing to my mom...it was great...even if I was confessing a totally irrational fear!
So off went the shoes and into the creek I went...the water felt good...it felt special...as it ran over my feet I was 15 again...standing in the water during Nature period...and I was worried about the leeches...but I got over it...and no, I never saw a leech...
We went to the riflery range...now it wasn't TECHNICALLY the riflery range that I shot it because the range got moved the last few years of camp...but it was still the FMGC riflery range.
I had a cell signal there...
So I updated my facebook status (I don't "tweet") and put:
At the FMGC riflery range with MBR!!!!
Best. Status. Update. Ever.
Because I was at the riflery range with my beloved counselor...and I was so happy knowing that the reason she didn't come back after my first year of camp was not my fault! (because her dad made her get a real job)
So we headed back to the main part of the camp...I walked with Jane and my friend Tracy...we took our time.
When we got to the pool Tracy and I spontaneously burst into tears...I don't know why but we just cried and held each other and it was a very perfect moment. I love her!
It was about time to leave...we walked around once more...
and then...
we had...
FRIENDSHIP CIRCLE
in the exact spot we had friendship circle every night at camp...
I got to hold Julie's hand...I bragged about it to everyone in the cirlce:
"Look at me! I get to be next to Julie!!!!!!!!!!!!"
because that was a very coveted thing to do when you were at camp...
We started to sing "Friday Mountain" and about 3 words in tears were streaming down my face...and I wasn't the only one...
the boo-hoos were audible...
I'm not sure there was a dry eye among us!
I'm not sure anyone was still singing the song except Mary Jo and her beautiful voice (she is my new best friend...love love love her!)
It was a truly spiritual moment...and unless you were there, it is hard to understand and I can't fully or properly describe it...but I will treasure that moment for the rest of my life!
And then someone had the bright idea to take a photo...there was a lot of runny mascara at that point but we piled on the porch of the Big House and took the photo anyway.
And then it was time to leave...
That was the hardest thing of all..to leave...because that property is sacred ground to the girls of FMGC and having one last chance to step on the porch of the Big House, one last time to ring the bell, one last look into the pool, one last glimpse of Friday Mountain (the mountain) was very very very special.
So off we went...but we had another special thing to do...we went to see Uncle B!
Now Uncle B was our own very special Nature Guy...and I love him even if he made me touch a tarantula. Uncle B lives in a nursing home in Dripping Spring and is over 100 years old.
When they wheeled him out to us I think he was a little overwhelmed and not too sure about who we were and why we were there. But then he "woke up" a bit and started talking and telling us stories...
and he remembered...
and he told us a few secrets that we never knew and even had Tink run up and get his stuffed (taxidermy) pygmy skunk. We had a grand time with him...
And then we sang to him and I know at that moment he felt more love than he had in a long time...because we all poured our love into that song and I pray that he will, when he goes to Heaven, know that he was an angel on earth to many girls...
even if he made us hold a tarantula...
We got back to the camp in Wimberley and had dinner and then had a grand campfire and roasted s'mores and sang songs...and drank some wine...some of us did...
And I said goodbye to Miss Annette and showed her how I could still do a "develope" (a ballet move). I can't wait to see her at the next reunion!
Then it was lanyard making time...
yes, it was late at night but we made lanyards!
and drank some more wine...
and took showers and sat in pajamas making lanyards and all of us coveted Elizabeth's reading glasses with the headlights on them...
Now how crazy is that?
Because one moment we were all 15 years old and the next we want reading glasses that light up!
So we stayed up late and had another fun night and drifted off to bed knowing that the next day would bring the pain of goodbye.
We got up, had breakfast, and packed up...it was truly like the last day of camp...
We took a lot of photos...I will treasure them...
Saying goodbye to Julie was as painful as ever so I was really happy that I got to leave the camp and then have lunch with her and some other friends from the reunion.
And my friend Mimi met me at the restaurant and I got to spend time with her...which was glorious since she wasn't at the reunion.
So there it is...my recap of the reunion.
And I can't wait until the next one...literally I wish it was this weekend because I could do it all again tomorrow...even the 218 steps!
So thank you to Sue and Tracy for organizing and for my Aunt Jane for coming with me and for all of the friends that were there...I love you all...
Because Friday Mountain Girls Camp was much more than a camp...
it was a safe place for us
it was "home" for us
it was a place we could be our true selves
it was a place where you might be a Wrangler or Buckaroo but first and foremost you were a camper
it was a place that for 2, 3, or 4 weeks you were surrounded by more than friends...you were surrounded by girls you had a deeper bond with...
it was a place that our hearts soared, our spirits ran free, and where the best part of ourselves shone like a beacon...
it was...more than a camp...more than a group of cabins...
it was...the best place on earth
and for 5 summers I was there...but my spirit still lives there and the lessons I learned at camp and the friends I made and the memories in my heart will forever imprint my life...and my Friday Mountain friends all share the same feeling.
Friday Mountain...calling back to me...
I may not be able to go back to the campsite...but I will forever be able to be a Friday Mountain girl!
Inspiration Song: "Moon River"...the FMCG girls know exactly why...
So where did I leave off?
Oh yes...
218 steps
218 steps up Old Baldie (the mini-mountain/big hill)
So we get down from the hill/mountain and realize that we have a lot further/longer to walk to get back to the campsite than we have time for...because they are holding lunch for us.
Someone got out their cell phone and made a call and about 10 minutes later 3 cars showed up to pick up the crazy ladies...at least we weren't 15 women piled in the back of a Dodge Ram pickup truck...
Here's the best part...I got to ride in MB's car. Now I don't know why that is such a big deal to me but for some reason I remember thinking I wanted to ride in her car when she was my counselor. So she shows up and I go running straight to HER car because by damn I was going to ride in HER car!
I sat in the back with Tink and just kept saying "I am riding in MBR's car!"...it was just joy...and I don't know why...
So we get back to the camp and eat lunch and then it was time to go to the REAL Friday Mountain Girls Camp property.
For some reason everyone took off without Jane and I...thank goodness for cell phones...we caught up pretty quickly...
After a wrong turn or two we ended up where we needed to be...
Hallowed ground...
FMGC
Friday Mountain Girls Camp!
The cabins were gone but the owner of the property had restored the "Big House" (where we ate) and...
and I still can't believe this as I type it...
the Nature cabin was still standing!
That old thing was old and dilapidated when I was a camper so it is truly a miracle (or Act of God) that it is still standing.
The pool is still there...
Tennis courts and flagpole and gymnastics area are no longer there but...and again I can't believe this as I type this...
the bell was still there!
And yes, we all took turns ringing it.
So we began to wander around...each of us lost in our own thoughts and memories.
Tears flowed freely...laughter abounded...lots of hugging and holding...
Inside the Big House the new owner had pulled out some old photos he had...and the cabin signs for many of the cabins were up on the wall.
I stepped outside to see Elizabeth rocking in a chair...in tears...overwhelmed with love for the place we all called "home" for a few weeks each summer.
The screen door slammed behind me...we both jumped a bit and smiled...and then I said:
"Isn't that the BEST SOUND EVER?!?!!?"
She said: "Do it again"
So I did...over and over...and MB did it with me. It made many of us tear up to hear that sound of the door...because we could remember walking through it to get our meals and hearing it shut behind us until the next girl grabbed the door.
We set out for the creek and the horse lot and the place where we had church every Sunday.
I cried at each spot...except that thankfully the horselot shed was gone and it was really over the fence and I wasn't technically standing in the horse lot...and it made me cry with memories of my horrible riding...and the Eagle Drill...
We stood where we had church...it is truly a place of God...so beautiful and peaceful...and I could hear the prayers of our pasts as we sat there...I could hear the beautiful voices of our younger selves worshipping God and being grateful for that very very special place.
Many of us took off our shoes and waded in the creek.
The first thing I did:
LOOK FOR LEECHES
For some stupid reason I was terrified of leeches...and there where leeches on the sides of the crossing (which is gone now) and leeches in the water. I was totally terrified that a leech was going to get on me. The Daddy-Long-Legs never scared me and I wasn't worried about scorpions (although someone was stung in the cabin every year) but I was really afraid a leech was going to suck out all my blood.
It was a stupid fear...
I reminded Julie (the camp director and one of the greatest influences on my life) of my silly fear...she just laughed...I felt like I was confessing to my mom...it was great...even if I was confessing a totally irrational fear!
So off went the shoes and into the creek I went...the water felt good...it felt special...as it ran over my feet I was 15 again...standing in the water during Nature period...and I was worried about the leeches...but I got over it...and no, I never saw a leech...
We went to the riflery range...now it wasn't TECHNICALLY the riflery range that I shot it because the range got moved the last few years of camp...but it was still the FMGC riflery range.
I had a cell signal there...
So I updated my facebook status (I don't "tweet") and put:
At the FMGC riflery range with MBR!!!!
Best. Status. Update. Ever.
Because I was at the riflery range with my beloved counselor...and I was so happy knowing that the reason she didn't come back after my first year of camp was not my fault! (because her dad made her get a real job)
So we headed back to the main part of the camp...I walked with Jane and my friend Tracy...we took our time.
When we got to the pool Tracy and I spontaneously burst into tears...I don't know why but we just cried and held each other and it was a very perfect moment. I love her!
It was about time to leave...we walked around once more...
and then...
we had...
FRIENDSHIP CIRCLE
in the exact spot we had friendship circle every night at camp...
I got to hold Julie's hand...I bragged about it to everyone in the cirlce:
"Look at me! I get to be next to Julie!!!!!!!!!!!!"
because that was a very coveted thing to do when you were at camp...
We started to sing "Friday Mountain" and about 3 words in tears were streaming down my face...and I wasn't the only one...
the boo-hoos were audible...
I'm not sure there was a dry eye among us!
I'm not sure anyone was still singing the song except Mary Jo and her beautiful voice (she is my new best friend...love love love her!)
It was a truly spiritual moment...and unless you were there, it is hard to understand and I can't fully or properly describe it...but I will treasure that moment for the rest of my life!
And then someone had the bright idea to take a photo...there was a lot of runny mascara at that point but we piled on the porch of the Big House and took the photo anyway.
And then it was time to leave...
That was the hardest thing of all..to leave...because that property is sacred ground to the girls of FMGC and having one last chance to step on the porch of the Big House, one last time to ring the bell, one last look into the pool, one last glimpse of Friday Mountain (the mountain) was very very very special.
So off we went...but we had another special thing to do...we went to see Uncle B!
Now Uncle B was our own very special Nature Guy...and I love him even if he made me touch a tarantula. Uncle B lives in a nursing home in Dripping Spring and is over 100 years old.
When they wheeled him out to us I think he was a little overwhelmed and not too sure about who we were and why we were there. But then he "woke up" a bit and started talking and telling us stories...
and he remembered...
and he told us a few secrets that we never knew and even had Tink run up and get his stuffed (taxidermy) pygmy skunk. We had a grand time with him...
And then we sang to him and I know at that moment he felt more love than he had in a long time...because we all poured our love into that song and I pray that he will, when he goes to Heaven, know that he was an angel on earth to many girls...
even if he made us hold a tarantula...
We got back to the camp in Wimberley and had dinner and then had a grand campfire and roasted s'mores and sang songs...and drank some wine...some of us did...
And I said goodbye to Miss Annette and showed her how I could still do a "develope" (a ballet move). I can't wait to see her at the next reunion!
Then it was lanyard making time...
yes, it was late at night but we made lanyards!
and drank some more wine...
and took showers and sat in pajamas making lanyards and all of us coveted Elizabeth's reading glasses with the headlights on them...
Now how crazy is that?
Because one moment we were all 15 years old and the next we want reading glasses that light up!
So we stayed up late and had another fun night and drifted off to bed knowing that the next day would bring the pain of goodbye.
We got up, had breakfast, and packed up...it was truly like the last day of camp...
We took a lot of photos...I will treasure them...
Saying goodbye to Julie was as painful as ever so I was really happy that I got to leave the camp and then have lunch with her and some other friends from the reunion.
And my friend Mimi met me at the restaurant and I got to spend time with her...which was glorious since she wasn't at the reunion.
So there it is...my recap of the reunion.
And I can't wait until the next one...literally I wish it was this weekend because I could do it all again tomorrow...even the 218 steps!
So thank you to Sue and Tracy for organizing and for my Aunt Jane for coming with me and for all of the friends that were there...I love you all...
Because Friday Mountain Girls Camp was much more than a camp...
it was a safe place for us
it was "home" for us
it was a place we could be our true selves
it was a place where you might be a Wrangler or Buckaroo but first and foremost you were a camper
it was a place that for 2, 3, or 4 weeks you were surrounded by more than friends...you were surrounded by girls you had a deeper bond with...
it was a place that our hearts soared, our spirits ran free, and where the best part of ourselves shone like a beacon...
it was...more than a camp...more than a group of cabins...
it was...the best place on earth
and for 5 summers I was there...but my spirit still lives there and the lessons I learned at camp and the friends I made and the memories in my heart will forever imprint my life...and my Friday Mountain friends all share the same feeling.
Friday Mountain...calling back to me...
I may not be able to go back to the campsite...but I will forever be able to be a Friday Mountain girl!
Inspiration Song: "Moon River"...the FMCG girls know exactly why...
Tuesday, October 12, 2010
Orange Blossom Special
I started this blog the day after my friend Patricks' accident and then my life spun out of control with STUFF...soooooo...I'm going to finish the reunion blog sometime soon but for now I will finish and post this...but the blog about Patrick had to come first. During all of this time I did tell Precious and Adorable History Teacher about my climp up the hill of 218 steps (since he was with me when I had my "ah ha" moment to get in shape) and got a big hug and a high five for that...and of course I have shared my "feat of amazement" with my trainer and spin teachers...got more hugs...and TTG and GOTT (more hugs)...I may not do 218 steps every weekend but like Tinkerbell, I need the applause to live and I make those men clap until their hands hurt...
So here is my blog about the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...
From Friday Mountain Girls Camp!
Is there a song in your life that causes you terror? Or maybe brings back horrific memories?
For me, that song is...well, it is a combination of songs...
The Orange Blossom Special and the Wabash Cannonball
Because they were two of the songs in the mash-up/combo that we rode to during the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...
(shudder)
For those who haven't read my last few blogs, the Eagle Drill was a "dance" on horseback where we took the horses through a long pattern set to music.
My last year of camp I led the Eagle Drill. I may have also had to lead it my first Eagle year when I went in August, but I have blocked it...
Leading the Eagle Drill was usually reserved for the BEST rider among the Eagles. I most certainly was NOT the best rider among the Eagles. I came in about 13th out of 14 girls...
I think they had me do it because I could remember the pattern---because it was my 3rd tme to be an Eagle. It was NOT my riding skills...because I have no riding skills. My sister N, now she has riding skills...incredible riding skills...and world championships to prove it. My brother B also was a pretty fierce rider (world championships in Cutting) and my sister S was also a pretty good rider.
Me...notsomuch...
I was good with cattle. I showed heifers and steers. I did well. I have the belt buckles to prove it.
But the horses...I was much better off lookng at them than riding them.
Basically, almost every time I am on a horse, I fall off. But at camp I did manage to stay in the saddle...most of the time...
I think because we raised and showed horses and my siblings were so good with them, everyone ASSUMED I could ride. I cannot ride.
And since my last day of camp I can tell you that I have been on a horse exactly one other time.
And I fell off...
I think at this point in my life that I shall not try it again. It is safer for all. And I would likely need surgery if I fell off a horse at my age.
My son, on the other hand, is a natural. He always rides with the more advanced group of boys at camp. Before camp he had been on a horse exactly...NEVER...
But he got to camp, someone told them who he was related to, and they put him on a horse and he rode it like he had been doing it for years.
And one time he fell off---just like his mother...but that was the only time he fell. That particular year (2 summers ago) my son did his level best to kill himself at Camp LaJunta. He fell off the top bunk onto his trunk---so they moved him to a lower bunk and he fell off that too. They dubbed him "Sir Fallsalot" in mountain biking---because he fell...alot. He fell running up the hill several times. He went days avoiding the camp picture girl because he had a split lip and a black eye from all the falls. And then there was the horseback incident. The worst part about THAT little incident was hearing about it afterwards. The conversation went like this:
Counselor: Did TCBITW (The Cutest Boy in the World) tell you about falling off the horse the other day and getting kicked in the head?
Me: (to my son): Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo....kicked in the head?
TCBITW: yes, the horse kicked me in the head after I fell off...good thing I had a helmet on...
Counselor: it cracked the helmet so we threw it away...
Me: did it crack your head? (that was said to my son)...Did you crack YOUR head (to counselor) because you have waited until NOW to tell me he got kicked in the head?
Counelor: we sent him to the nurse...
TCBITW: the nurse said it didn't look like I was going to have a concussion...
Counelor: we watched him very closely the rest of the day...
TCBITW: I got to ride on the scooter with Blake (camp director) after I fell off...
Me: he fell off a horse and then you put him on the back of a scooter
TCBITW: it was fun!
Me: what was fun?
TCBITW: all of it...although falling off wasn't that fun...but the cracked helmet was...
I think I forgot to mention that he almost ran out of air in scuba class that year...now I think he may have (run out of air)....
Yes, I still let him go to camp...
Heck, we didn't wear helmets...and I hit a lot of branches during trail rides...I'm surprised none of us ever lost a ponytail or braid to a tree branch...or didn't get our hair caught and fall off the horse...oh wait! I think that happened to me!!!!
So back to the drill...
My last year of camp my favorite counselor---Dana---tells me I am leading the drill. She is excited. I am not.
All I can think of is that I will never remember the pattern...and that I will bounce around in that saddle like popcorn as we take the horses through their turns.
I have blocked from my mind the name of the horse I rode but I am pretty sure he/she was 100 years old and had done that darn drill no less than 50 times so I honestly think the horse did the drill and I was just along for the ride.
The worst part was that my father watched it on closing day. And then he told me that I bounced like popcorn popping on that saddle.
This from a man who once graced the cover of "Fortune" magazine riding a horse...and looking like he was trying to flap his arm as wings to fly. We always referred to his riding style as "doing the funky chicken" because he flapped his arms as he rode. It was not a very elegant or impressive magazine cover. He was also covered in dirt.
But he had to comment on MY riding style...
Thanks, Daddy...
I told him to just be happy I didn't fall off...
And then he went on to be thrilled with my shooting abilities in riflery and the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill was forgotten.
But every time I hear those songs---I leave the room or turn off the radio...
And the horses of the world are safe because I have vowed never to ride again!
Inspiration Music: "The Orange Blossom Special" and "The Wabash Cannonball"...not because they inspire me...they strike terror in me...but because what would the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill have been without them?
So here is my blog about the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...
From Friday Mountain Girls Camp!
Is there a song in your life that causes you terror? Or maybe brings back horrific memories?
For me, that song is...well, it is a combination of songs...
The Orange Blossom Special and the Wabash Cannonball
Because they were two of the songs in the mash-up/combo that we rode to during the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill...
(shudder)
For those who haven't read my last few blogs, the Eagle Drill was a "dance" on horseback where we took the horses through a long pattern set to music.
My last year of camp I led the Eagle Drill. I may have also had to lead it my first Eagle year when I went in August, but I have blocked it...
Leading the Eagle Drill was usually reserved for the BEST rider among the Eagles. I most certainly was NOT the best rider among the Eagles. I came in about 13th out of 14 girls...
I think they had me do it because I could remember the pattern---because it was my 3rd tme to be an Eagle. It was NOT my riding skills...because I have no riding skills. My sister N, now she has riding skills...incredible riding skills...and world championships to prove it. My brother B also was a pretty fierce rider (world championships in Cutting) and my sister S was also a pretty good rider.
Me...notsomuch...
I was good with cattle. I showed heifers and steers. I did well. I have the belt buckles to prove it.
But the horses...I was much better off lookng at them than riding them.
Basically, almost every time I am on a horse, I fall off. But at camp I did manage to stay in the saddle...most of the time...
I think because we raised and showed horses and my siblings were so good with them, everyone ASSUMED I could ride. I cannot ride.
And since my last day of camp I can tell you that I have been on a horse exactly one other time.
And I fell off...
I think at this point in my life that I shall not try it again. It is safer for all. And I would likely need surgery if I fell off a horse at my age.
My son, on the other hand, is a natural. He always rides with the more advanced group of boys at camp. Before camp he had been on a horse exactly...NEVER...
But he got to camp, someone told them who he was related to, and they put him on a horse and he rode it like he had been doing it for years.
And one time he fell off---just like his mother...but that was the only time he fell. That particular year (2 summers ago) my son did his level best to kill himself at Camp LaJunta. He fell off the top bunk onto his trunk---so they moved him to a lower bunk and he fell off that too. They dubbed him "Sir Fallsalot" in mountain biking---because he fell...alot. He fell running up the hill several times. He went days avoiding the camp picture girl because he had a split lip and a black eye from all the falls. And then there was the horseback incident. The worst part about THAT little incident was hearing about it afterwards. The conversation went like this:
Counselor: Did TCBITW (The Cutest Boy in the World) tell you about falling off the horse the other day and getting kicked in the head?
Me: (to my son): Nooooooooooooooooooooooooo....kicked in the head?
TCBITW: yes, the horse kicked me in the head after I fell off...good thing I had a helmet on...
Counselor: it cracked the helmet so we threw it away...
Me: did it crack your head? (that was said to my son)...Did you crack YOUR head (to counselor) because you have waited until NOW to tell me he got kicked in the head?
Counelor: we sent him to the nurse...
TCBITW: the nurse said it didn't look like I was going to have a concussion...
Counelor: we watched him very closely the rest of the day...
TCBITW: I got to ride on the scooter with Blake (camp director) after I fell off...
Me: he fell off a horse and then you put him on the back of a scooter
TCBITW: it was fun!
Me: what was fun?
TCBITW: all of it...although falling off wasn't that fun...but the cracked helmet was...
I think I forgot to mention that he almost ran out of air in scuba class that year...now I think he may have (run out of air)....
Yes, I still let him go to camp...
Heck, we didn't wear helmets...and I hit a lot of branches during trail rides...I'm surprised none of us ever lost a ponytail or braid to a tree branch...or didn't get our hair caught and fall off the horse...oh wait! I think that happened to me!!!!
So back to the drill...
My last year of camp my favorite counselor---Dana---tells me I am leading the drill. She is excited. I am not.
All I can think of is that I will never remember the pattern...and that I will bounce around in that saddle like popcorn as we take the horses through their turns.
I have blocked from my mind the name of the horse I rode but I am pretty sure he/she was 100 years old and had done that darn drill no less than 50 times so I honestly think the horse did the drill and I was just along for the ride.
The worst part was that my father watched it on closing day. And then he told me that I bounced like popcorn popping on that saddle.
This from a man who once graced the cover of "Fortune" magazine riding a horse...and looking like he was trying to flap his arm as wings to fly. We always referred to his riding style as "doing the funky chicken" because he flapped his arms as he rode. It was not a very elegant or impressive magazine cover. He was also covered in dirt.
But he had to comment on MY riding style...
Thanks, Daddy...
I told him to just be happy I didn't fall off...
And then he went on to be thrilled with my shooting abilities in riflery and the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill was forgotten.
But every time I hear those songs---I leave the room or turn off the radio...
And the horses of the world are safe because I have vowed never to ride again!
Inspiration Music: "The Orange Blossom Special" and "The Wabash Cannonball"...not because they inspire me...they strike terror in me...but because what would the Mighty Mighty Eagle Drill have been without them?
Monday, October 11, 2010
Fly Like an Eagle/The Eagle and the Hawk
I was going to blog today about the rest of the FMGC reunion but I'm still savoring it and holding it in my heart...so I need another day before I let it out and talk about going to the actual hollowed grounds that was our beloved camp. It was so emotional...spiritual...surreal...amazing...and I will get to it tomorrow or Wednesday...so today I will talk about the Eagle stuff...
Ahhhh...the Eagle cabin...
The Eagles were the oldest girls in the camp...they ruled the camp...everyone looked up to the Eagles...everyone wanted to be an Eagle...
Being a Hawk was pretty good too...but not as good as being an Eagle!
I got to be an Eagle 3 years...that was pretty special. I thought I may have been the only camper in the history of FMGC to be in the same cabin for 3 years but I found out that Elizabeth was in the same cabin for 3 years---as a ROBIN!
She said she went from Robin to Eagle...I think Julie is still baffled that it occurred. I'm going to give the award for "most years in one cabin" to Elizabeth because although I summered in the Eagle cabin for 3 years, one of those years (my first year as an Eagle) I was in August term instead of my usual June. She was always in the same term as a camper...and she had to be a ROBIN 3 times...
I had to go to August one year because my mom was moving us from Kingsville and because our family reunionn got moved to June.
A family reunion I am no longer invited to because I no longer hold shares in the family business.
Is it a family reunion or a stockholders meeting? I wish someone would clear that up for me because clearly my DNA has not changed and I am still a member of the family just not a shareholder...
Moving on...
So I was an Eagle in August and then 2 years again when I returned to my beloved June term.
So 3 of my Friday Mountain summers were spent as an Eagle...
I stared as a Roadrunner...and then I was a Kingfisher...and then Eagle...Eagle...Eagle...
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Friday Mountain Girls Camp, our cabins were clearly named for birds. The youngest were the Hummingbirds (Hummers) and then we had the Wrens, Robins, Cardinals, Roadrunners, Kingfishers, Hawks and then the Eagles...
Our cabin was the furthest away from the Big House (dining hall) and from the Hummers...I think Julie wanted us far far away from the little ones since we were 14 and mostly 15 years old and maybe not the BEST influence on the wee ones who were but 7 or 8 years old.
As an Eagle you got some pretty great priveleges...like getting to be a Buckaroo or Wrangler leader (like a Kiowa or Tonk to you Mystic girls, a Shawnee or Pawnee to the Heart girls, or a Comanche, Aztec, or Tejas to the Waldemar ladies). You also got to do the famous Eagle Drill on horseback...and you got to set up Hunter's Stew...more on those later...
But you also had to pay for the privelege by eating last and often having swimming first in the morning...often followed by horseback...or sometimes you had riding BEFORE lunch and then riflery after lunch so you had to put your jeans on twice and haul yourself out to the horse lot and rifle range twice.
I don't know what was worse...putting on jeans when you were still wet from the pool or having to put them on twice.
By the end of the week your jeans would be rather..."crispy" shall we say? UGH!
We didn't care...we were at camp...
The Eagle cabin had the leakiest of the showers...more so than the other cabins...or maybe we were just pigs. We called the water that pooled in the middle of the sink area "Lake Dookie"...it was clean water from the showers but disgusting all the same.
We didn't care...we were at camp...
Being a Wrangler or Buckaroo leader was really fun. Each group had 4 Eagles in charge...a leader and co-leader and spirit leader and co-spirit leader. We learned a lot about leadership as we lead our groups during Wrangler/Buckaroo time and during competition day. You also got to lead initiation...but we can't talk about that...it's still a secret...but I will tell you that we hazed the new girls a bit before the initiation and basically scared the hell out of them. One year when I was co-leader I was in charge of the holding pen of new Buckaroos and I couldn't help myself---I confessed to them that it was all fake and to just act scared. I couldn't bear to have a 7 year old terrified of what was about to happen...
Each cabin had a porch swing. My last Eagle year a couple of the girls were swinging on the swing singing along to the radio when they got the swing to going a bit too high. The swings were attached with "S" hooks. Well, they swung so high the swing came off the "S" hooks...they flew through the air on the swing, miraculously landing still in the swing (without their legs underneath)...and then they peed themselves. Yes, they peed. We almost peed watching it. It was the funniest thing that ever happened that year in the cabin and we had a lot of funny stuff...Most people would die of shame if they peed themself...
But they didn't care...they were at camp...
On Saturdays we had dances with the boys camp. Every blowdryer in the camp would be going along with hot curlers (Clairol Kindness Caresetter for me!) and curling irons. We always blew the fuses. It was funny to see the Hummers and Wrens trying out make-up. We would work up a sweat getting ready...fixing our hair into perfect imitations of Farrah Fawcett's spectacular do (may she rest in forever blonde peace)and putting on sundresses and lots and lots of blue eyeshadow and tons of mascara until our eyelashes looked like spiders. One girl in my sister's cabin showed up with the top tray of her trunk completely filled with Estee Lauder make-up. She got up every morning to put it on, not just on dance days...we laughed at her...
So we would get fixed up just to be sweated and melted by the time the dance started. All those fabulous curls we did would melt and droop in the heat and humidity and our mascara would be running.
We didn't care...we were at camp...and we were getting to see BOYS...
My last Eagle year I struck up a camp romance with the boy's camp riflery CIT (Counselor in Training). I am pretty sure his name was Daniel. He wrote me and I wrote him and we danced all the dances together. I got to see him an extra time during camp when the 4 best shooters from the boys camp came over to our camp for a riflery competition. We won...easily...my 2 sisters and I and one other girl totally beat the heck out of the boys. I think it was the day I got a "50" (perfect score) which Daniel scored and agreed that I was pretty amazing with a gun. Tracy was soooo proud of us! I almost considered not doing so well so I could look ladylike but then I came to my senses and realized that any guy who didn't think a chick who could hit a target perfectly and still toss her blonde hair fetchingly didn't deserve me.
He held my hand after I shot...we were sneaky with it...
We even snuck off for a quick kiss (it was very sweet) during one of the dances...I'll admit it now that I am a grownup that it was the only rule I ever broke at FMGC. But oh my was he cute...dark hair/light eyes (I've blogged that before)...oh my...
I saw him once after camp. We both happened to be in Port Aransas at the same time. I had a heck of a sunburn and could barely tolerate clothes but I fixed myself up cute and found something that didn't scratch and we had a sweet night walking on the beach and talking about camp and I tried not to wince in pain when he put his arms around me...isn't romance sweet when you are a teenager?
But I digress...
moving on...
To Hunter's Stew...
Hunter's Stew was something we had a couple of times each term. The cooks got a night off and we (the Eagles) would set up the cans and stuff for dinner down by the creek in a grassy area we could eat in. Each cabin got several cans of stew which would be placed on a small fire to heat up. We thought it was such a privelege to get to do it until we realized it was really work!
When you were done with your stew, you threw your plate into the fire...
And we won't even try and figure out how many retainers went into the fire along with the plates...one counselor almost burned herself when she tried (and succeeded) to rescue my retainer.
But it did make us feel important and special to gather and set out the cans and be in charge...
We had skit nights on Sundays. The Eagles usually did the best skits. The Hummers were the worst---they just wandered about the stage and made no sense and we just prayed they got over it in less than 5 minutes. My last year at camp I wrote a skit for our cabin---it was called "The Wizard of Kidd" and it was about camp. The Munchkins were "Hummers" and I played the scarecrow which I believe was supposed to be a horseback counselor. I can't remember much else except that I think the Glinda character was "Julie" and we did have a Dorothy. The year before a raging case of diarrhea went through the camp. It was misery for almost everyone. So when I wrote the play, I named the Wicked Witch "Montezuma's Revenge". Paige played the witch...she was marvelous...she melted (from being doused with Pepto Bismol) for a full minute. It was glorious...she was marvelous...and she is a real live bonafide actress. I wish I had a tape of tha skit...although I am not sure Julie liked it very much...but we did...oh, we did...
Being an Eagle also meant that you were considered for "Most Honorable Camper". It was the last award Julie handed out. First you had the cabin awards and then the class awards (for riding, nature, etc.) and then you had the "Best all around Wrangler" and "Best All Around Buckaroo". And then Most Honorable Camper. For Best All Around Wrangler/Buckaroo you got a beautiful silver medallion. Most Honorable Camper received a loving cup trophy. When Julie said my name I was paralyzed. I thought I heard it wrong. But I have the loving cup to prove it and I can 100% honestly tell you that every time I look at it, I am reminded to be a better person and to live up to the title...even 30 years later. Because as much as it was an honor to win it, when I look at it now I am grateful to Julie and to FMGC for teaching me to be the kind of girl who COULD win the award...and we all were Most Honorable Campers just for having been to Friday Mountain. And sometimes, when I doubt myself, I look at the trophy...and my little silver medallion...
And sometimes when I want to kill someone, I look at my riflery charm...
just kidding...
Now about that Eagle Drill I mentioned...well, that is going to be another blog...I'm tired and I think I may have tired you out reading all of this...so I will save it for another day...because describing my terrible horseback riding alone takes several paragraphs!
Inspiration Song(s): "Fly Like an Eagle"---Steve Miller Band or Seal (which is really a great version...maybe better than Steve Miller...). AND..."The Eagle and the Hawk" by John Denver...because we sang it all the time at dinner...and it was a really big deal when you got to be a Hawk or Eagle and got to sing the song...
Bye Darlings...
Ahhhh...the Eagle cabin...
The Eagles were the oldest girls in the camp...they ruled the camp...everyone looked up to the Eagles...everyone wanted to be an Eagle...
Being a Hawk was pretty good too...but not as good as being an Eagle!
I got to be an Eagle 3 years...that was pretty special. I thought I may have been the only camper in the history of FMGC to be in the same cabin for 3 years but I found out that Elizabeth was in the same cabin for 3 years---as a ROBIN!
She said she went from Robin to Eagle...I think Julie is still baffled that it occurred. I'm going to give the award for "most years in one cabin" to Elizabeth because although I summered in the Eagle cabin for 3 years, one of those years (my first year as an Eagle) I was in August term instead of my usual June. She was always in the same term as a camper...and she had to be a ROBIN 3 times...
I had to go to August one year because my mom was moving us from Kingsville and because our family reunionn got moved to June.
A family reunion I am no longer invited to because I no longer hold shares in the family business.
Is it a family reunion or a stockholders meeting? I wish someone would clear that up for me because clearly my DNA has not changed and I am still a member of the family just not a shareholder...
Moving on...
So I was an Eagle in August and then 2 years again when I returned to my beloved June term.
So 3 of my Friday Mountain summers were spent as an Eagle...
I stared as a Roadrunner...and then I was a Kingfisher...and then Eagle...Eagle...Eagle...
For those of you who are unfamiliar with Friday Mountain Girls Camp, our cabins were clearly named for birds. The youngest were the Hummingbirds (Hummers) and then we had the Wrens, Robins, Cardinals, Roadrunners, Kingfishers, Hawks and then the Eagles...
Our cabin was the furthest away from the Big House (dining hall) and from the Hummers...I think Julie wanted us far far away from the little ones since we were 14 and mostly 15 years old and maybe not the BEST influence on the wee ones who were but 7 or 8 years old.
As an Eagle you got some pretty great priveleges...like getting to be a Buckaroo or Wrangler leader (like a Kiowa or Tonk to you Mystic girls, a Shawnee or Pawnee to the Heart girls, or a Comanche, Aztec, or Tejas to the Waldemar ladies). You also got to do the famous Eagle Drill on horseback...and you got to set up Hunter's Stew...more on those later...
But you also had to pay for the privelege by eating last and often having swimming first in the morning...often followed by horseback...or sometimes you had riding BEFORE lunch and then riflery after lunch so you had to put your jeans on twice and haul yourself out to the horse lot and rifle range twice.
I don't know what was worse...putting on jeans when you were still wet from the pool or having to put them on twice.
By the end of the week your jeans would be rather..."crispy" shall we say? UGH!
We didn't care...we were at camp...
The Eagle cabin had the leakiest of the showers...more so than the other cabins...or maybe we were just pigs. We called the water that pooled in the middle of the sink area "Lake Dookie"...it was clean water from the showers but disgusting all the same.
We didn't care...we were at camp...
Being a Wrangler or Buckaroo leader was really fun. Each group had 4 Eagles in charge...a leader and co-leader and spirit leader and co-spirit leader. We learned a lot about leadership as we lead our groups during Wrangler/Buckaroo time and during competition day. You also got to lead initiation...but we can't talk about that...it's still a secret...but I will tell you that we hazed the new girls a bit before the initiation and basically scared the hell out of them. One year when I was co-leader I was in charge of the holding pen of new Buckaroos and I couldn't help myself---I confessed to them that it was all fake and to just act scared. I couldn't bear to have a 7 year old terrified of what was about to happen...
Each cabin had a porch swing. My last Eagle year a couple of the girls were swinging on the swing singing along to the radio when they got the swing to going a bit too high. The swings were attached with "S" hooks. Well, they swung so high the swing came off the "S" hooks...they flew through the air on the swing, miraculously landing still in the swing (without their legs underneath)...and then they peed themselves. Yes, they peed. We almost peed watching it. It was the funniest thing that ever happened that year in the cabin and we had a lot of funny stuff...Most people would die of shame if they peed themself...
But they didn't care...they were at camp...
On Saturdays we had dances with the boys camp. Every blowdryer in the camp would be going along with hot curlers (Clairol Kindness Caresetter for me!) and curling irons. We always blew the fuses. It was funny to see the Hummers and Wrens trying out make-up. We would work up a sweat getting ready...fixing our hair into perfect imitations of Farrah Fawcett's spectacular do (may she rest in forever blonde peace)and putting on sundresses and lots and lots of blue eyeshadow and tons of mascara until our eyelashes looked like spiders. One girl in my sister's cabin showed up with the top tray of her trunk completely filled with Estee Lauder make-up. She got up every morning to put it on, not just on dance days...we laughed at her...
So we would get fixed up just to be sweated and melted by the time the dance started. All those fabulous curls we did would melt and droop in the heat and humidity and our mascara would be running.
We didn't care...we were at camp...and we were getting to see BOYS...
My last Eagle year I struck up a camp romance with the boy's camp riflery CIT (Counselor in Training). I am pretty sure his name was Daniel. He wrote me and I wrote him and we danced all the dances together. I got to see him an extra time during camp when the 4 best shooters from the boys camp came over to our camp for a riflery competition. We won...easily...my 2 sisters and I and one other girl totally beat the heck out of the boys. I think it was the day I got a "50" (perfect score) which Daniel scored and agreed that I was pretty amazing with a gun. Tracy was soooo proud of us! I almost considered not doing so well so I could look ladylike but then I came to my senses and realized that any guy who didn't think a chick who could hit a target perfectly and still toss her blonde hair fetchingly didn't deserve me.
He held my hand after I shot...we were sneaky with it...
We even snuck off for a quick kiss (it was very sweet) during one of the dances...I'll admit it now that I am a grownup that it was the only rule I ever broke at FMGC. But oh my was he cute...dark hair/light eyes (I've blogged that before)...oh my...
I saw him once after camp. We both happened to be in Port Aransas at the same time. I had a heck of a sunburn and could barely tolerate clothes but I fixed myself up cute and found something that didn't scratch and we had a sweet night walking on the beach and talking about camp and I tried not to wince in pain when he put his arms around me...isn't romance sweet when you are a teenager?
But I digress...
moving on...
To Hunter's Stew...
Hunter's Stew was something we had a couple of times each term. The cooks got a night off and we (the Eagles) would set up the cans and stuff for dinner down by the creek in a grassy area we could eat in. Each cabin got several cans of stew which would be placed on a small fire to heat up. We thought it was such a privelege to get to do it until we realized it was really work!
When you were done with your stew, you threw your plate into the fire...
And we won't even try and figure out how many retainers went into the fire along with the plates...one counselor almost burned herself when she tried (and succeeded) to rescue my retainer.
But it did make us feel important and special to gather and set out the cans and be in charge...
We had skit nights on Sundays. The Eagles usually did the best skits. The Hummers were the worst---they just wandered about the stage and made no sense and we just prayed they got over it in less than 5 minutes. My last year at camp I wrote a skit for our cabin---it was called "The Wizard of Kidd" and it was about camp. The Munchkins were "Hummers" and I played the scarecrow which I believe was supposed to be a horseback counselor. I can't remember much else except that I think the Glinda character was "Julie" and we did have a Dorothy. The year before a raging case of diarrhea went through the camp. It was misery for almost everyone. So when I wrote the play, I named the Wicked Witch "Montezuma's Revenge". Paige played the witch...she was marvelous...she melted (from being doused with Pepto Bismol) for a full minute. It was glorious...she was marvelous...and she is a real live bonafide actress. I wish I had a tape of tha skit...although I am not sure Julie liked it very much...but we did...oh, we did...
Being an Eagle also meant that you were considered for "Most Honorable Camper". It was the last award Julie handed out. First you had the cabin awards and then the class awards (for riding, nature, etc.) and then you had the "Best all around Wrangler" and "Best All Around Buckaroo". And then Most Honorable Camper. For Best All Around Wrangler/Buckaroo you got a beautiful silver medallion. Most Honorable Camper received a loving cup trophy. When Julie said my name I was paralyzed. I thought I heard it wrong. But I have the loving cup to prove it and I can 100% honestly tell you that every time I look at it, I am reminded to be a better person and to live up to the title...even 30 years later. Because as much as it was an honor to win it, when I look at it now I am grateful to Julie and to FMGC for teaching me to be the kind of girl who COULD win the award...and we all were Most Honorable Campers just for having been to Friday Mountain. And sometimes, when I doubt myself, I look at the trophy...and my little silver medallion...
And sometimes when I want to kill someone, I look at my riflery charm...
just kidding...
Now about that Eagle Drill I mentioned...well, that is going to be another blog...I'm tired and I think I may have tired you out reading all of this...so I will save it for another day...because describing my terrible horseback riding alone takes several paragraphs!
Inspiration Song(s): "Fly Like an Eagle"---Steve Miller Band or Seal (which is really a great version...maybe better than Steve Miller...). AND..."The Eagle and the Hawk" by John Denver...because we sang it all the time at dinner...and it was a really big deal when you got to be a Hawk or Eagle and got to sing the song...
Bye Darlings...
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Climb Every Mountain
218 steps...
I'll get to that in a minute...just had to put it out there for you.
So you are probably wondering why the heck this blog is titled "Climb Every Mountain", because it is certainly NOT a workout song...but it is truly the inspiration for this blog today.
Because, you see, I just had the greatest weekend ever...or at least since I was 15 years old. Because that was the last time I was at Friday Mountain Girls Camp...and this weekend I got to go back.
We had a reunion...and oh what a reunion it was!
There were about 30 of us...former campers...former counselors...and Julie...Julie Julie Julie. Julie was the camp director and one of the greatest influences on my life and that of most/all of us at the reunion.
It was amazing...and I am going to bore you to death with blogging about it...
Sadly, Friday Mountain Girls Camp closed after the 1984 session. It was a wonderful camp and for those of us blessed enough to attend it, it was heaven on earth and the greatest summers of our lives. And anyone who went to camp and loved it knows just what I mean...
So about a year ago one of the former camper/counselors has the idea to make this reunion happen...and she did it. She got together with another counselor and they planned a really magical weekend for us.
My Aunt Jane (the best person in the world) and I loaded up on Friday around noon and headed out. She was a counselor at FMGC for 2 years---how awesome is it that I got to have my aunt as a counselor where I went to camp?
Since FMGC is closed and now the property is privately owned, we bunked up at a camp in Wimberely, not too far from our camp. We arrived in time to help Sue and Tracy (yeah, I'm going to use some real names here...) set up.
And just like camp, the "campers" started to arrive. Hugs...tears...joy...
And then she walked in. "She" being...DANA...my favorite counselor EVER...
She was a goddess then...she is a goddess now. And dammit...she looked the same. Still gorgeous...
She was my cabin counselor my last year at camp. I poured my heart out to her many times. She was an awesome big sister to me even though I wasn't her sister. And I was thrilled to see that her REAL sister was there and I got to see her too. She worked in the horse lot...and we did our level best to make her and the other counselors insane...and I loved her and wished with all my heart that she had been MY big sister.
So in she walks...and I burst into tears. I haven't seen her since I tackled her in North Star Mall many years ago...I screamed her name and ran across the mall...it scared a lot of people, including her...but she loves me anyway...even if I tackle her in a mall...
And then I got a super treat...for the first time in over 30 years I got to hug Julie. And that was undescribable...so I won't even try to tell you how great that was.
And then walks in MB (her name is very distinctive so I am going to shorten it)...oh how I loved MB and how I loved to drive her nuts.
MB was a counselor my first year at camp. We really did make her crazy. And when she didn't come back the following year we speculated it was our fault. Now I know the truth---her dad made her get a "real" job.
Poor MB even had a song we made up about her...to the tune of "Little Bunny Foo Foo". I won't sing it for you because I cannot sing...and you wouldn't get it unless you were at camp in 1976.
We had a great time getting re-acquainted and seeing old friends and meeting new friends among the girls who attended camp at different years or terms than some of us.
At dinner we all told stories about how much FMGC meant to us. I would have talked all night if they let me (you all know THAT about me). I shared that going back to camp after my parents divorce was a great comfort to me and that my cabin mates helped me to get through it. I shared that I loved every minute of camp. I shared that I still display my "Most Honorable Camper" trophy (this is like "cup girl" at Mystic or "Ideal Girl" at Waldemar). And that the trophy reminds me to be good to others. And that my dad still liked the fact that I led the Eagle Drill (on horseback) and the fact that I could out shoot the best of the boys camp (we had a riflery competition)more than the fact that I was nice...oh well...
Now about that horseback stuff...I sucked.
There is no other word for it.
I am the worse horseback rider in the world.
The only thing I did worse at camp than horseback was...TENNIS...
you remember that blog...I don't need to revisit it here for you...
I was also pretty lousy at sports, archery (almost shot a few counselors)and nature. I didn't much care for nature time---the walks were long and hot and they made us pick up bugs. Needless to say I never won a nature award.
I did pretty good at swimming and gymnastics and arts and crafts.
But I rocked at riflery. I got all the way up to the standing up level. I beat the boys. I won the award. I can shoot a gun.
I also almost shot a few counselors...
It was easy...we would all do it...we would turn to the counselor and ask something WITH THE GUN IN OUR HANDS and forget to put it down. So when you are at standing or kneeling level and you turn right to look at the counselor...well, sometimes your body follows your head and then you have a gun...pointed at your counselor.
The archery "shootings" were just bad aim...this was just a lack of paying attention. I wish I had a dime for every time Tracy told one of us "put your gun down before you turn around"...I could have paid for camp in a week.
So I could stand up and hit a target and pretty much hit the bulls eye every time.
I don't know why that didn't scare off potential boyfriends...
As for the horse thing...I will start by saying that the horseback counselors were EXTREMELY patient with me. My sisters could ride...and my sister N was an amazing equestrienne...but me...Lord help me, I can't sit on a horse without falling off or at least looking very very very stupid.
It should have been in my DNA to be able to ride...but God skipped that part in the mix that is me. Just like the "can play tennis" gene and the "can hit/throw/catch a ball" gene, I didn't get the "can sit on a horse and ride" gene.
Dana, my favorite counselor ever, was a horseback counselor...I tell you that because it would have been unbearable to ride or go on the overnights if not for her.
The 2nd worst words ever for me to hear at camp: "we are going on a trail ride"...
WORST words to hear: "Goodbye...see you next summer"...
(I also hated hearing that my parents had shown up...because that meant I for sure had to leave...)
My last year I led that Eagle Horseback drill. Not because I was the best rider. I think it was because I could remember the pattern.
There will be more on this in a later blog...because the Eagle drill and Eagle cabin deserve their own blog...and I just can't bear to write about overnights on the mountain when I am so happy right now...because that was total misery for me...but not really...just in terms of "camp misery" which is all relative...
So back to the reunion...
We stayed up late watching videos/slide shows and playing games...and drinking wine and beer. Never got to do THAT with Julie and the counselors before...maybe because I was 15...
I think I went to bed at 1:30.
Got up at 7:30 and took a good walk around the camp we were staying at. Sue and Tracy, the organizers, had the genius idea to stay there because it was the ORIGINAL site of the original FMGC...except it was called "Holiday Hills"...
We had breakfast and then gathered up to go walk up some hill called "Old Baldie".
But before we left some more magic happened...Miss Annette showed up!
Miss Annette ran the horse lot. When she wasn't dealing with privledged princesses at camp, she taught ballet. She had a horse named "Odette" named after the swan in Swan Lake. I thought that was the best name ever for a horse owned by a ballet teacher.
I couldn't ride...but I could do ballet. I think that is why she put up with me.
I walked up to her and told her who I was...afraid she would not remember me but rather my sister.
Nope...sly little fox she was she knew just who I was...and did not mix me up with my sister and remembered that I showed cattle and that was my talent...not horses.
I thought I loved her all I could...but that proved that I could love her more...she's awesome...
We said our hellos and then set out on the walk. Tracy told us it was just a 1/4 mile to Old Baldie and then we would climb up (it has steps) and see a great view.
We got lost...
We went the wrong way...
About a mile in to the 1/4 mile walk (yes, you read that right) we told her that she must be leading us the wrong way. We found a lovely gentleman in a pickup truck and Cindy asked directions and somehow charmed him into letting us hitch a ride with him.
15 women in the back of a pickup truck.
A few climbed in the cab but most of us were in the bed of the truck.
We looked like a group of crazy women who were being let out of the asylum for a brief field trip.
Piled in to the bed of the truck we sang and laughed and sang some more. And held on to the truck and each other for dear life as the guy driving us seemed to forget he had women sitting in the bed of the truck...
The camp is located in a neighborhood. Those poor people...
I think some of the neighbors got worried after seeing us in the truck...because we really did look crazy...
He dropped us off at Old Baldie and that is where the 218 steps comes in...
Because to get to the top of the hill, you have to climp up 218 stone steps. At least that is what Tracy told us. I think it was more than 218...but that is what she said so that is what I will claim...
I looked at the top of the hill, not quite seeing it...even though it was pretty steep and straight up.
218 steps...
did I really want to try that?
youbetcha...
50 steps in...notsomuch...
Going through my brain is the following:
218 steps
I hate heights
I hate climbing stairs
I hate climbing down steep stairs
218 steps
I'm wearing my crazy "shape up" shoes which are NOT flat
it is very hot
218 stone steps
that's a long way...
But I started it and dammit I was going to get to the top...
about halfway up I got pretty winded...
I took a 20 second break...
I went further...took a 10 second break...
Anne encouraged me to finish...Amanda encouraged me to finish...Jane encouraged me to finish...I was almost at the top...
and I got there...
I got there...
218 steps...
I got there...
and the view was spectacular...but being there with my camp friends was priceless...and the fact that I could even get up there was...well, I can't really tell you because I might sound too full of pride in myself...
because, as those of you who read my blog know...it was a trip up the stairs that changed my life and got me to lose the weight and start working out...and that was just 20 steps...
20 steps that changed my life...
and 218 steps that I was able to climb now because I changed my life...
and yes, I plan to tell Precious and Adorable History Teacher that I climbed up 218 steps because I changed my life after not being able to climb up 20 with him...and yes, he will applaud...because I will make him...and because he is Precious and Adorable and he does what I ask him to do...
we said a prayer at the top of the hill...it was wonderful...
coming down should have been a lot easier but since I had on those shape up shoes with the curved bottom it was not...and it scared me...because I hate heights and stairs...
but the whole way down I kept saying "I just climbed up 218 steps and I did not have a heart attack"...and that felt DAMN good...and it was all the better because I did it with people I love...
6 months ago I wouldn't have even thought about it...
6 months ago I would have stayed back and not even tried to go to the hill, much less thought about climbing it...
6 months ago I wouldn't have even gone on the walk...
3 months ago I would have been intimidated and most likely given up...
but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...and it felt good...
I have way more to blog about the reunion...but right now I am tired (in a good way) and really want a nice long soak in the tub...
and I don't want to talk about returning to FMGC campsite in the same blog as climbing the steps...because going back to camp was so so so special...it deserves its own blog...especially for those of you who couldn't be there with us...
but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...
Inspiration song: "Climb Every Mountain" from "The Sound of Music".
2 reasons:
1) we had a song we called "Climb Friday Mountain" sung to the same tune
and
2) we should ALL do as the song says...climb every mountain...ford every stream...follow every rainbow...until you find your dream...
Climbing 218 steps would have been a dream for me 6 months ago...now it is a reality...
Bye Darlings...more tomorrow...and here is a link to Elizabeth's photos...they are AMAZING...
http://picasaweb.google.com/esimmons76/FMGCReunion2010#
I'll get to that in a minute...just had to put it out there for you.
So you are probably wondering why the heck this blog is titled "Climb Every Mountain", because it is certainly NOT a workout song...but it is truly the inspiration for this blog today.
Because, you see, I just had the greatest weekend ever...or at least since I was 15 years old. Because that was the last time I was at Friday Mountain Girls Camp...and this weekend I got to go back.
We had a reunion...and oh what a reunion it was!
There were about 30 of us...former campers...former counselors...and Julie...Julie Julie Julie. Julie was the camp director and one of the greatest influences on my life and that of most/all of us at the reunion.
It was amazing...and I am going to bore you to death with blogging about it...
Sadly, Friday Mountain Girls Camp closed after the 1984 session. It was a wonderful camp and for those of us blessed enough to attend it, it was heaven on earth and the greatest summers of our lives. And anyone who went to camp and loved it knows just what I mean...
So about a year ago one of the former camper/counselors has the idea to make this reunion happen...and she did it. She got together with another counselor and they planned a really magical weekend for us.
My Aunt Jane (the best person in the world) and I loaded up on Friday around noon and headed out. She was a counselor at FMGC for 2 years---how awesome is it that I got to have my aunt as a counselor where I went to camp?
Since FMGC is closed and now the property is privately owned, we bunked up at a camp in Wimberely, not too far from our camp. We arrived in time to help Sue and Tracy (yeah, I'm going to use some real names here...) set up.
And just like camp, the "campers" started to arrive. Hugs...tears...joy...
And then she walked in. "She" being...DANA...my favorite counselor EVER...
She was a goddess then...she is a goddess now. And dammit...she looked the same. Still gorgeous...
She was my cabin counselor my last year at camp. I poured my heart out to her many times. She was an awesome big sister to me even though I wasn't her sister. And I was thrilled to see that her REAL sister was there and I got to see her too. She worked in the horse lot...and we did our level best to make her and the other counselors insane...and I loved her and wished with all my heart that she had been MY big sister.
So in she walks...and I burst into tears. I haven't seen her since I tackled her in North Star Mall many years ago...I screamed her name and ran across the mall...it scared a lot of people, including her...but she loves me anyway...even if I tackle her in a mall...
And then I got a super treat...for the first time in over 30 years I got to hug Julie. And that was undescribable...so I won't even try to tell you how great that was.
And then walks in MB (her name is very distinctive so I am going to shorten it)...oh how I loved MB and how I loved to drive her nuts.
MB was a counselor my first year at camp. We really did make her crazy. And when she didn't come back the following year we speculated it was our fault. Now I know the truth---her dad made her get a "real" job.
Poor MB even had a song we made up about her...to the tune of "Little Bunny Foo Foo". I won't sing it for you because I cannot sing...and you wouldn't get it unless you were at camp in 1976.
We had a great time getting re-acquainted and seeing old friends and meeting new friends among the girls who attended camp at different years or terms than some of us.
At dinner we all told stories about how much FMGC meant to us. I would have talked all night if they let me (you all know THAT about me). I shared that going back to camp after my parents divorce was a great comfort to me and that my cabin mates helped me to get through it. I shared that I loved every minute of camp. I shared that I still display my "Most Honorable Camper" trophy (this is like "cup girl" at Mystic or "Ideal Girl" at Waldemar). And that the trophy reminds me to be good to others. And that my dad still liked the fact that I led the Eagle Drill (on horseback) and the fact that I could out shoot the best of the boys camp (we had a riflery competition)more than the fact that I was nice...oh well...
Now about that horseback stuff...I sucked.
There is no other word for it.
I am the worse horseback rider in the world.
The only thing I did worse at camp than horseback was...TENNIS...
you remember that blog...I don't need to revisit it here for you...
I was also pretty lousy at sports, archery (almost shot a few counselors)and nature. I didn't much care for nature time---the walks were long and hot and they made us pick up bugs. Needless to say I never won a nature award.
I did pretty good at swimming and gymnastics and arts and crafts.
But I rocked at riflery. I got all the way up to the standing up level. I beat the boys. I won the award. I can shoot a gun.
I also almost shot a few counselors...
It was easy...we would all do it...we would turn to the counselor and ask something WITH THE GUN IN OUR HANDS and forget to put it down. So when you are at standing or kneeling level and you turn right to look at the counselor...well, sometimes your body follows your head and then you have a gun...pointed at your counselor.
The archery "shootings" were just bad aim...this was just a lack of paying attention. I wish I had a dime for every time Tracy told one of us "put your gun down before you turn around"...I could have paid for camp in a week.
So I could stand up and hit a target and pretty much hit the bulls eye every time.
I don't know why that didn't scare off potential boyfriends...
As for the horse thing...I will start by saying that the horseback counselors were EXTREMELY patient with me. My sisters could ride...and my sister N was an amazing equestrienne...but me...Lord help me, I can't sit on a horse without falling off or at least looking very very very stupid.
It should have been in my DNA to be able to ride...but God skipped that part in the mix that is me. Just like the "can play tennis" gene and the "can hit/throw/catch a ball" gene, I didn't get the "can sit on a horse and ride" gene.
Dana, my favorite counselor ever, was a horseback counselor...I tell you that because it would have been unbearable to ride or go on the overnights if not for her.
The 2nd worst words ever for me to hear at camp: "we are going on a trail ride"...
WORST words to hear: "Goodbye...see you next summer"...
(I also hated hearing that my parents had shown up...because that meant I for sure had to leave...)
My last year I led that Eagle Horseback drill. Not because I was the best rider. I think it was because I could remember the pattern.
There will be more on this in a later blog...because the Eagle drill and Eagle cabin deserve their own blog...and I just can't bear to write about overnights on the mountain when I am so happy right now...because that was total misery for me...but not really...just in terms of "camp misery" which is all relative...
So back to the reunion...
We stayed up late watching videos/slide shows and playing games...and drinking wine and beer. Never got to do THAT with Julie and the counselors before...maybe because I was 15...
I think I went to bed at 1:30.
Got up at 7:30 and took a good walk around the camp we were staying at. Sue and Tracy, the organizers, had the genius idea to stay there because it was the ORIGINAL site of the original FMGC...except it was called "Holiday Hills"...
We had breakfast and then gathered up to go walk up some hill called "Old Baldie".
But before we left some more magic happened...Miss Annette showed up!
Miss Annette ran the horse lot. When she wasn't dealing with privledged princesses at camp, she taught ballet. She had a horse named "Odette" named after the swan in Swan Lake. I thought that was the best name ever for a horse owned by a ballet teacher.
I couldn't ride...but I could do ballet. I think that is why she put up with me.
I walked up to her and told her who I was...afraid she would not remember me but rather my sister.
Nope...sly little fox she was she knew just who I was...and did not mix me up with my sister and remembered that I showed cattle and that was my talent...not horses.
I thought I loved her all I could...but that proved that I could love her more...she's awesome...
We said our hellos and then set out on the walk. Tracy told us it was just a 1/4 mile to Old Baldie and then we would climb up (it has steps) and see a great view.
We got lost...
We went the wrong way...
About a mile in to the 1/4 mile walk (yes, you read that right) we told her that she must be leading us the wrong way. We found a lovely gentleman in a pickup truck and Cindy asked directions and somehow charmed him into letting us hitch a ride with him.
15 women in the back of a pickup truck.
A few climbed in the cab but most of us were in the bed of the truck.
We looked like a group of crazy women who were being let out of the asylum for a brief field trip.
Piled in to the bed of the truck we sang and laughed and sang some more. And held on to the truck and each other for dear life as the guy driving us seemed to forget he had women sitting in the bed of the truck...
The camp is located in a neighborhood. Those poor people...
I think some of the neighbors got worried after seeing us in the truck...because we really did look crazy...
He dropped us off at Old Baldie and that is where the 218 steps comes in...
Because to get to the top of the hill, you have to climp up 218 stone steps. At least that is what Tracy told us. I think it was more than 218...but that is what she said so that is what I will claim...
I looked at the top of the hill, not quite seeing it...even though it was pretty steep and straight up.
218 steps...
did I really want to try that?
youbetcha...
50 steps in...notsomuch...
Going through my brain is the following:
218 steps
I hate heights
I hate climbing stairs
I hate climbing down steep stairs
218 steps
I'm wearing my crazy "shape up" shoes which are NOT flat
it is very hot
218 stone steps
that's a long way...
But I started it and dammit I was going to get to the top...
about halfway up I got pretty winded...
I took a 20 second break...
I went further...took a 10 second break...
Anne encouraged me to finish...Amanda encouraged me to finish...Jane encouraged me to finish...I was almost at the top...
and I got there...
I got there...
218 steps...
I got there...
and the view was spectacular...but being there with my camp friends was priceless...and the fact that I could even get up there was...well, I can't really tell you because I might sound too full of pride in myself...
because, as those of you who read my blog know...it was a trip up the stairs that changed my life and got me to lose the weight and start working out...and that was just 20 steps...
20 steps that changed my life...
and 218 steps that I was able to climb now because I changed my life...
and yes, I plan to tell Precious and Adorable History Teacher that I climbed up 218 steps because I changed my life after not being able to climb up 20 with him...and yes, he will applaud...because I will make him...and because he is Precious and Adorable and he does what I ask him to do...
we said a prayer at the top of the hill...it was wonderful...
coming down should have been a lot easier but since I had on those shape up shoes with the curved bottom it was not...and it scared me...because I hate heights and stairs...
but the whole way down I kept saying "I just climbed up 218 steps and I did not have a heart attack"...and that felt DAMN good...and it was all the better because I did it with people I love...
6 months ago I wouldn't have even thought about it...
6 months ago I would have stayed back and not even tried to go to the hill, much less thought about climbing it...
6 months ago I wouldn't have even gone on the walk...
3 months ago I would have been intimidated and most likely given up...
but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...and it felt good...
I have way more to blog about the reunion...but right now I am tired (in a good way) and really want a nice long soak in the tub...
and I don't want to talk about returning to FMGC campsite in the same blog as climbing the steps...because going back to camp was so so so special...it deserves its own blog...especially for those of you who couldn't be there with us...
but yesterday I climbed 218 steps...
Inspiration song: "Climb Every Mountain" from "The Sound of Music".
2 reasons:
1) we had a song we called "Climb Friday Mountain" sung to the same tune
and
2) we should ALL do as the song says...climb every mountain...ford every stream...follow every rainbow...until you find your dream...
Climbing 218 steps would have been a dream for me 6 months ago...now it is a reality...
Bye Darlings...more tomorrow...and here is a link to Elizabeth's photos...they are AMAZING...
http://picasaweb.google.com/esimmons76/FMGCReunion2010#
Tuesday, June 29, 2010
Steady As She Goes
The bar didn't get to move...yet...I'm like 1/2 a pound away.
I think I sweated it out in Spinderella's class today. She gave us another grueling workout and I love her for it. I'm never bored, she always plays good (fun) music, and the video distraction is really helpful when your quads are screaming in pain.
Today she treated us to a Rihanna concert video and more of the extreme skiers. Rihanna is beautiful. The skiers are NUTS...these are the kinds of guys that get droped on a mountain via helicopter and they ski down...and sometimes parachute. NUTS.
I'll take my adrenaline in easier doses, thankyouverymuch...
I didn't weigh myself all weekend. I did weigh myself yesterday and today and at least I was moving the little bar to the left. It is almost to the "0" (zero)! I can feel it...any day now I get to move the 50 pound increment bar...steady as she goes...
So I got to wondering what was giving me a little jump start on my losing again...and I think I figured it out.
For a moment there I was terrified that it was my wine and that I was going to have to tell Bacchus not make any more yummy suggestions and I was going to have to stop checking the cinderellawine.com website every day, but wine doesn't seem to be the culprit. I'm not drinking enough of it for it to affect me...at least not calorie-wise...and a glass (sometimes 2) isn't going to trip me up.
I think I wasn't...and this is wild to me...eating enough.
I was sending my body into starvation mode. I was not getting enough calories. "I" and "not enough calories" in the same sentence.
As horribly sluggish as my metabolism is, I was not helping it by under-consuming. I'm doing workouts burning a minimum of 600 calories and I sometimes hit a high of over 1000 in a workout. Some days I was barely eating 1200 calories and working out hard. Not enough fuel...
So I have played with it a bit over the last few days and I have been eating a bit more frequently...fueling myself a bit every few hours, but with healthy stuff. 3 small, good, balanced meals a day and 2 snacks...sometimes 3 if I eat an early dinner.
My snacks are either Greek-style yogurt (Fage 2% honey or blueberry), Oatmega bars (I like the blueberry one and the peanut butter one), fruit, an ounce of almonds, V8 (low sodium ONLY), or Fit Foods Black bean soup.
And I still have my glass of wine most (but not all) nights. Last night I opened a bottle of "Ball Buster" red blend---mostly Shiraz with some Cab and Merlot thrown in for fun---$13 at Costco---and it is not bad...but not as good as the Molly Dooker Boxer...but half the price...so...
And I think taking Sunday off from the gym helped too. I have found that when I give myself a day off I come back stronger and get a longer, harder workout. I have only skipped 6 days since March 27 so I am entitled and I need to not feel guilty about it.
I'm going to take Thursday off too. Because on Thursday I get to pick the Cutest Boy in the World up from Camp LaJunta. We may need an ark to get there. The camp is possibly going to have to alter closing if the rain keeps coming. We might have to have a drive-by closing. Thank you, "Alex" for literally raining on my parade...
We have had a drive-by closing before. A drive-by closing is a little like a drive-by shooting except that what they shoot into your car is something you want (your son). Not bullets.
I didn't mind the drive-by thing so much excpet that I didn't get to see my son win a big award that year. Every year as I sit and sweat to death and melt in the heat at closing (oh yes, and they have a FIRE going) I wonder if the trade-off is worth it...you can drive-by and pick up your kid but you don't see the awards or you can swelter and see your very excited child get an award. I'll take the heat and the excited kid...
But the drive-by does have its merits---you drive into the camp in your car and you stop along the way and turn in forms (for camp next year), pick up meds and awards, pay camp store bill, and then, in a moment that is just AMAZING they do the best thing ever---THEY LOAD THE TRUNK AND ALL THE CRAP INTO THE CAR FOR YOU RIGHT THEN AND THERE AND YOU NEVER LEAVE YOUR VEHICLE. And yes, you get your son too! I'm just kidding with you here...getting your boy is the best part but the loading the car without leaving the comfort of air conditioning is pretty sweet.
Regular camp closing is pretty well done at Camp LaJunta anyway. You line up in your cars and wait for a bit---all the while listening to the camp radio that is playing "boys like this" kind of music and the camp director keeps giving you time updates---and then you get let into the main part of the camp. You park your car near the big field near where a sign marks your son's cabin area. And there, on the field, are ALL of the camp trunks---neatly organized into rows, ready to be loaded. You get out of your car and point to your son's belongings and a cute boy counselor helps you load the stuff into your car, all the while telling you how great your kid is. Then you wait...and then they release the boys for the "charge from the cabins" and soon, as you anxiously look for the running boy that is your son, you see your precious boy running toward you to throw himself into your arms and allow himself to be covered in kisses. And then he turns back into a "cool" boy and steps away. And then you have to melt during the awards...but you get your kid back...and then you get the ride home with the most excited boy in the world telling you that camp is the best place. EVER.
Ke$ha Barbie used to go to Camp Mystic...for 8 years...she used to think it was the best place. EVER.
I must pause here to cry a bit because this year she decided to forgo camp in favor of going to concerts. So we told her she had to get a job...because we are mean, evil, terrible parents. And no, that job could NOT be working as a counselor at one of the country clubs for 3 weeks taking care of country club member's kids. So she can be found hostessing at Pappasitos on Wednesday and Friday nights and Sunday afternoons...
(sniff sniff)
Camp Mystic literally asks you to take your life into your hands when it comes to loading the trunks at closing. It's not so bad if you have a younger girl, but the "senior" girls live in cabins on the hill. The way up and down the hill is a very steep one-way "road" that you must ascertain that no one is coming the opposite way from you before you go up or down the hill. Once up the hill you have to play "chicken" with the other dads in suburbans to get to your daughter's cabin. Then you have to find a parking place (easier said than done) and then you have to drag your daughter's trunk and garbage (and girls have way more crap and garbage than boys do) out of the cabin and down some stone steps and then load into the car and then try and get down the hill without having a head-on collision.
I dont' remember much about my own camp closing other than the fact that seeing your parent's car was a depressing sight and we had all the trunks on the porch so we could drop them into the car trunks or slide them into the back of the station wagons. Our parents would then follow us around to watch us do our activities (we always had to chase some dad out of the cabin so we could change for swimming) and then we would have lunch (the best fried chicken ever...or was it BBQ?) and then we had awards. And then an hour of boo-hoo as we said goodbye.
The girls at Mystic have boo-hoo. The boys at LaJunta do not.
My parents had to deal with 3 crying girls and 3 nasty trunks...and then 4 once my brother joined us. One year my sister K kept throwing a wet bathing suit into her trunk and everything mildewed in it. She wore the same clothes for a week until one of the counselors discovered what was happening and made my sister N deal with it...and someone washed the clothes.
And as for those clothes...let's talk about THAT for a moment...because I say a little prayer before I open up that trunk and see what is lurking inside. It usually smells pretty bad...
One year my son informed me that I didn't need to wash his clothes because the CIT washed all of his laundry the day before. So all of his clothes and linens (he didn't use the word "linens" but you know what I mean) were clean. Because the CIT washed it...the CIT being the "counselor in training" who is 16 years old. I'm glad that the CIT's get those skills...way more useful than how to put cheetos and shaving cream into your hair for a cool hairdo.
I informed my son that there was "camp clean" and "mom clean" and that they were not the same thing.
I wash everything in the trunk...have the kids put their clothes away and then I put all the linens and non-clothes back into the trunk. And then I will wash it all again in May before camp. Because that is "mom clean". And I want my kids to have their first night in their camp bunk to be on sheets that still smell like the Downy I like to use.
So Thursday I will skip the gym and my exercise will be in patience as I ride in the car for 4 1/2 hours to go get my boy. It will be a great day...I get to have lunch with my beautiful sister-in-law and my precious niece and nephew (and they will come to camp with us and melt) and then we are having dinner with some dear friends that moved to the hill country and my son will get to spend the night at their house and spend some time with his best friend (they may have moved but my son still considers him his best friend. EVER.). And the next morning we will shop at the mercado in San Antonio (and lunch at Mi Ti's...heaven...) before heading back.
Camp closings are bittersweet...I remember the great times I had at Friday Mountain Girls Camp and the boo-hoo of seperation. (shout out to my FMGC cabin mates and the Buckaroos) Because camp was the best place. EVER.
And when I get home I will get on the scale and hopefully I will get to move the bar---or there might be an hour of boo-hoo...
But it will happen...steady as she goes...a tiny bit at a time...but at least it is moving...
Inspiration music: "Steady As She Goes" by The Raconteurs...because it was playing as I left the gym today after Spinderella set my legs on fire...
bye darlings...
I think I sweated it out in Spinderella's class today. She gave us another grueling workout and I love her for it. I'm never bored, she always plays good (fun) music, and the video distraction is really helpful when your quads are screaming in pain.
Today she treated us to a Rihanna concert video and more of the extreme skiers. Rihanna is beautiful. The skiers are NUTS...these are the kinds of guys that get droped on a mountain via helicopter and they ski down...and sometimes parachute. NUTS.
I'll take my adrenaline in easier doses, thankyouverymuch...
I didn't weigh myself all weekend. I did weigh myself yesterday and today and at least I was moving the little bar to the left. It is almost to the "0" (zero)! I can feel it...any day now I get to move the 50 pound increment bar...steady as she goes...
So I got to wondering what was giving me a little jump start on my losing again...and I think I figured it out.
For a moment there I was terrified that it was my wine and that I was going to have to tell Bacchus not make any more yummy suggestions and I was going to have to stop checking the cinderellawine.com website every day, but wine doesn't seem to be the culprit. I'm not drinking enough of it for it to affect me...at least not calorie-wise...and a glass (sometimes 2) isn't going to trip me up.
I think I wasn't...and this is wild to me...eating enough.
I was sending my body into starvation mode. I was not getting enough calories. "I" and "not enough calories" in the same sentence.
As horribly sluggish as my metabolism is, I was not helping it by under-consuming. I'm doing workouts burning a minimum of 600 calories and I sometimes hit a high of over 1000 in a workout. Some days I was barely eating 1200 calories and working out hard. Not enough fuel...
So I have played with it a bit over the last few days and I have been eating a bit more frequently...fueling myself a bit every few hours, but with healthy stuff. 3 small, good, balanced meals a day and 2 snacks...sometimes 3 if I eat an early dinner.
My snacks are either Greek-style yogurt (Fage 2% honey or blueberry), Oatmega bars (I like the blueberry one and the peanut butter one), fruit, an ounce of almonds, V8 (low sodium ONLY), or Fit Foods Black bean soup.
And I still have my glass of wine most (but not all) nights. Last night I opened a bottle of "Ball Buster" red blend---mostly Shiraz with some Cab and Merlot thrown in for fun---$13 at Costco---and it is not bad...but not as good as the Molly Dooker Boxer...but half the price...so...
And I think taking Sunday off from the gym helped too. I have found that when I give myself a day off I come back stronger and get a longer, harder workout. I have only skipped 6 days since March 27 so I am entitled and I need to not feel guilty about it.
I'm going to take Thursday off too. Because on Thursday I get to pick the Cutest Boy in the World up from Camp LaJunta. We may need an ark to get there. The camp is possibly going to have to alter closing if the rain keeps coming. We might have to have a drive-by closing. Thank you, "Alex" for literally raining on my parade...
We have had a drive-by closing before. A drive-by closing is a little like a drive-by shooting except that what they shoot into your car is something you want (your son). Not bullets.
I didn't mind the drive-by thing so much excpet that I didn't get to see my son win a big award that year. Every year as I sit and sweat to death and melt in the heat at closing (oh yes, and they have a FIRE going) I wonder if the trade-off is worth it...you can drive-by and pick up your kid but you don't see the awards or you can swelter and see your very excited child get an award. I'll take the heat and the excited kid...
But the drive-by does have its merits---you drive into the camp in your car and you stop along the way and turn in forms (for camp next year), pick up meds and awards, pay camp store bill, and then, in a moment that is just AMAZING they do the best thing ever---THEY LOAD THE TRUNK AND ALL THE CRAP INTO THE CAR FOR YOU RIGHT THEN AND THERE AND YOU NEVER LEAVE YOUR VEHICLE. And yes, you get your son too! I'm just kidding with you here...getting your boy is the best part but the loading the car without leaving the comfort of air conditioning is pretty sweet.
Regular camp closing is pretty well done at Camp LaJunta anyway. You line up in your cars and wait for a bit---all the while listening to the camp radio that is playing "boys like this" kind of music and the camp director keeps giving you time updates---and then you get let into the main part of the camp. You park your car near the big field near where a sign marks your son's cabin area. And there, on the field, are ALL of the camp trunks---neatly organized into rows, ready to be loaded. You get out of your car and point to your son's belongings and a cute boy counselor helps you load the stuff into your car, all the while telling you how great your kid is. Then you wait...and then they release the boys for the "charge from the cabins" and soon, as you anxiously look for the running boy that is your son, you see your precious boy running toward you to throw himself into your arms and allow himself to be covered in kisses. And then he turns back into a "cool" boy and steps away. And then you have to melt during the awards...but you get your kid back...and then you get the ride home with the most excited boy in the world telling you that camp is the best place. EVER.
Ke$ha Barbie used to go to Camp Mystic...for 8 years...she used to think it was the best place. EVER.
I must pause here to cry a bit because this year she decided to forgo camp in favor of going to concerts. So we told her she had to get a job...because we are mean, evil, terrible parents. And no, that job could NOT be working as a counselor at one of the country clubs for 3 weeks taking care of country club member's kids. So she can be found hostessing at Pappasitos on Wednesday and Friday nights and Sunday afternoons...
(sniff sniff)
Camp Mystic literally asks you to take your life into your hands when it comes to loading the trunks at closing. It's not so bad if you have a younger girl, but the "senior" girls live in cabins on the hill. The way up and down the hill is a very steep one-way "road" that you must ascertain that no one is coming the opposite way from you before you go up or down the hill. Once up the hill you have to play "chicken" with the other dads in suburbans to get to your daughter's cabin. Then you have to find a parking place (easier said than done) and then you have to drag your daughter's trunk and garbage (and girls have way more crap and garbage than boys do) out of the cabin and down some stone steps and then load into the car and then try and get down the hill without having a head-on collision.
I dont' remember much about my own camp closing other than the fact that seeing your parent's car was a depressing sight and we had all the trunks on the porch so we could drop them into the car trunks or slide them into the back of the station wagons. Our parents would then follow us around to watch us do our activities (we always had to chase some dad out of the cabin so we could change for swimming) and then we would have lunch (the best fried chicken ever...or was it BBQ?) and then we had awards. And then an hour of boo-hoo as we said goodbye.
The girls at Mystic have boo-hoo. The boys at LaJunta do not.
My parents had to deal with 3 crying girls and 3 nasty trunks...and then 4 once my brother joined us. One year my sister K kept throwing a wet bathing suit into her trunk and everything mildewed in it. She wore the same clothes for a week until one of the counselors discovered what was happening and made my sister N deal with it...and someone washed the clothes.
And as for those clothes...let's talk about THAT for a moment...because I say a little prayer before I open up that trunk and see what is lurking inside. It usually smells pretty bad...
One year my son informed me that I didn't need to wash his clothes because the CIT washed all of his laundry the day before. So all of his clothes and linens (he didn't use the word "linens" but you know what I mean) were clean. Because the CIT washed it...the CIT being the "counselor in training" who is 16 years old. I'm glad that the CIT's get those skills...way more useful than how to put cheetos and shaving cream into your hair for a cool hairdo.
I informed my son that there was "camp clean" and "mom clean" and that they were not the same thing.
I wash everything in the trunk...have the kids put their clothes away and then I put all the linens and non-clothes back into the trunk. And then I will wash it all again in May before camp. Because that is "mom clean". And I want my kids to have their first night in their camp bunk to be on sheets that still smell like the Downy I like to use.
So Thursday I will skip the gym and my exercise will be in patience as I ride in the car for 4 1/2 hours to go get my boy. It will be a great day...I get to have lunch with my beautiful sister-in-law and my precious niece and nephew (and they will come to camp with us and melt) and then we are having dinner with some dear friends that moved to the hill country and my son will get to spend the night at their house and spend some time with his best friend (they may have moved but my son still considers him his best friend. EVER.). And the next morning we will shop at the mercado in San Antonio (and lunch at Mi Ti's...heaven...) before heading back.
Camp closings are bittersweet...I remember the great times I had at Friday Mountain Girls Camp and the boo-hoo of seperation. (shout out to my FMGC cabin mates and the Buckaroos) Because camp was the best place. EVER.
And when I get home I will get on the scale and hopefully I will get to move the bar---or there might be an hour of boo-hoo...
But it will happen...steady as she goes...a tiny bit at a time...but at least it is moving...
Inspiration music: "Steady As She Goes" by The Raconteurs...because it was playing as I left the gym today after Spinderella set my legs on fire...
bye darlings...
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