Tag Archives: walking

She’ll Be Coming Around the Golf Course….

Sunday I got up, threw on my exercise clothes and headed out the door to walk 3 miles.

My complex sits along side a golf course and you can walk all the way around the course on a paved trail.  The trail itself is 3 miles however, I was just going to go down to the light I turn at to go to work and back.  I marked it out in the car and round trip is 3 miles.

Perfect.

It was about 10:00AM and by 10:10AM – out on the trail- I was sweating.  Not because I was over exerting myself but the humidity was fierce.  I had a sweat mustache that was turning into a sweat beard.  This was the least of my worries as I thought, “dear lord don’t let my ass sweat so much I get visible crack sweat.”

Passing other exercisers I pondered….

A.)  I’m the only one carrying a water bottle.

B.)  Nobody else looks hot.  (Except for the woman who was carrying a towel in her cleavage.  Yep.  Swear.)

The trail is also popular for people and their dogs.  It wasn’t long until I encountered my first couple walking their furry kid.  The parents were both sporting shorts and tank tops while busily chatting about the upcoming day.  However, it was their dog that caught my attention.

The pet.

Was wearing a sweater.

Apparently, when they bought the dog it was a full sized Doberman Pinscher but for some reason, over time, it began to shrink and now was a pocket sized pet.  That’s embarrassing.  When you heat things up that shouldn’t really be heated …..they tend to shrink.

Think:  washing a wool sweater.

Continuing on my way, I encountered some of the local wildlife.  The crazy ass ducks.  There were precisely TWO cute white feathered ducks with the yellow beaks.  The rest of the herd were these oddly  poka-a-dotted, red headed, as large as four footballs kind of ducks.  They come up to about my knee.  I’ve see them all the time as I drive along this stretch of the road –  they enjoy the greens of the course.

Today, there’s about 14 of them in the middle of the trail.

About 25 paces ahead of me is a man.  Not an enormous man.  Not a small man.  Not a skinny man.  Not a fat man.  Just a man.  He approaches the herd.  I’m thinking, “this will be interesting.”  Next thing I know he’s flapping his arms wildly over his head, while yelling at them:

“Go Away!”

“Go!”

“Get out of here!”

Some people are afraid of cockroaches.  Some people don’t like cats.  This man obviously thought the ducks were going to knock him down and attack him him like a band of rubber soled mall cops believing he shop lifted something from the As Seen On TV store.

Next up?  The Alaska Minxy.  I approach the herd.  My take on the scene was completely different.    Just like a Wood Nymph from the forest, I greet the ducks and wish them a pleasant day.

“Morning everyone.”

“Excuse me. Pardon me.”

“Have a good day.  Stay out of trouble.  Good to see you.”

I weaved my way through the knee high nippers (while trying to avoid the ones with the creepy red heads and turkey like neck things) all the while conversing with them.  They had plenty to say and it was all very important to express whatever it was.

Honk.  Honk.  Squawk.  Honk.  Beep.  Squawk.

Finally, I was on my final approach to the gate of my community, I spotted a giant tree, which would be perfect to sit under to do my cool down stretches.  I really enjoy this time of my workout.  It’s calming and relaxing for me.  My music plays in my ears and I’m very content.  Having drank my entire Nalgene bottle of water…and sweating like a UFC fighter….I carefully check to make sure there’s no dog poop or snakes in the grass and begin my stretches.

I’m sitting on the ground, legs stretched to either side and I’m leaning over each leg, stretching.  Ahhhh.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure to my left.  Okay, well just ignore it.  It will go away.  La. La. La. Laaaa.  La. La. La.

I bend to the other knee and WHOA, what the hell?  The figure is now pretty much within arms reach.  I look up at this man who could have easily been my grandfather, standing there with his hands on his hips, his mouth is moving…..Really?  You have to be kidding me.

He’s obviously trying to tell me something so,  I take out my earplugs and think he must be trying to tell me that he wouldn’t advise sitting in the grass because of snakes or lizards….right?

Wrong.  He says, “are you stretching?”

No, I’m actually looking to see if ants have dandruff and am checking this crab grass for evidence.  WTF?

He proceeds to tell me that I’m doing it all wrong and I should be doing it this way.  And it’s all about breathing.  Yatta.  Yatta.  Okay, got it.  Thanks.  You can stretch how you want to stretch and I’ll stretch the way I want to stretch….now please move on so I can continue to check on the ant dandruff.

Then, it becomes obvious he’s determined to change my ways and proceeds to show me a better stretch using the tree.  Fine.  By this time I am sweating so much I learn that:  no really, when sweat runs into your eyes it burns.

It actually burns A LOT!  First one eye.  Then the second eye.  Luckily my third eye was still at home soaking in the anti-ache third eye solution.  I think my sweat is actually melting my contacts to my eyeballs.  All the while grandpa here is showing me the proper hamstring stretch.

Then he stands up and says, “can you bend over?”

I said, “Excuse me?”

He replied, “You know, touch your toes.  A lot of people can’t touch their toes because they don’t stretch properly.  Like this.”  And he proceeds to aim for his toes.

I turn to the side and throw my hands on the ground.  Yep, I’d say I can touch my toes….no problem.  Got it.  Check.

My eyes now feel like I’ve put Frank’s Red Hot in them and I really just need to go through the gate on my left.  HOWEVER.

As I begin to make my exit, Grandpa is telling me how I should really take up yoga cause it keeps woman looking young.  I tell him the company I work for actually offers a yoga class every week at the company gym.  He was shocked and asked where I worked.

I’m thinking come on…buddy, if I give off any more vibe of “I’ve got to go” I’m going to disappear in a giant puff of smoke.  Not to mention I need to get the sweat out of my eyeballs – now I can barely see due to the triple vision in each eyes and my nose is now running.

I tell him I work for Royal Caribbean cruises and his response is, “It’s terrible what happened to all those captives.  Just a shame.”  I couldn’t figure out if he was referring to employees or passengers.  Then he says something about being stranded out there and being held captive.

As I make my way to the gate I yell over my shoulder that wasn’t Royal Caribbean, that was Carnival cruises.   Thanks for the stretching advise and have a good day.

I slam through the gate and exhale on the other side, “freak.”

What I learned on my walk:

Some men are afraid of duck herds.

Doberman Pinschers shrink when they get hot.

Stretch inside the gate.

Carry a hand towel in my cleavage.

Learn how to say, “I don’t speak English” in Pig Latin.

 

 

 

 

 

Pissing Me Off

I am having one of those days.

I’m pissed off at nothing and everything.

For now, just stay out of my way.

Please.

Which gives me good motivation to write about things that piss me off, no matter if I’m having a good day or not.  For some, fingernails going down a black board can send you to insanity.  That doesn’t bother me, but this does…..I started to pull together thoughts for this blog yesterday when we were at Home Depot.

I needed to purchase a new toilet seat and wanted to get in and out of the store.  Heading in I start towards the bathroom fixture area.  Down the aisle I go and I hear following me:

smack

smack

smack

smack.

I turn my head just enough to get a good peripheral look at the target.  Just shoot me. If you don’t know how to properly wear your shoes, I suggest duct taping them on.  (Can you get any lazier? Only if paired with your pajama pants.)  We’re in Home Depot, they have an entire aisle devoted to adhesives, certainly I could find something to help keep your damn shoes on your feet.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

Smack.

They were slip on shoes, worn like fucking flip flops.  If I don’t get away from you, I am going to beat you with your shoe.  She was walking around like some dazed and confused twenty something….wondering where the designer jean aisle was located.   Wrong store, you have to go to Seattle to find that aisle.  In the meanwhile she was dazzled by all the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling and certainly wondering to herself where the DJ was located.

Needless to say I hurried along, leaving my better half behind.  I don’t have time for this today.  Which leads me to when men don’t tie their hiking boots.  A completely different sound:

clomp

clomp

clomp

clomp.

Note: If you’re wearing the hiking boots for ankle support you are missing the mark.  In high school it may have been cool to wear those yellow construction boots with the laces undone, but that was the past.

Hey!

Welcome to the present!

You are impressing nobody but yourself.

The other thing that does me in every time I hear it are the shufflers.  You know what I’m talking about.  At least the smackers and clompers are some what picking up their feet.  Although, as history has proven, this is not always the case.  The shufflers aren’t doing anything but just that…shuffling.  Dragging their feet across the ground.

Oh, they’re so heavy, these feet of mine.

If you can’t keep the flip flops or slip on shoes on your feet and walk like a proper homo-sapien, I suggest you purchase different shoes.  Let me guess, when they showed you how to tie shoes in kindergarten you were out sick….well guess what?  Velcro.  Buy shoes with Velcro straps and do us all a favor.

The only thing worse than a flip flop shuffler is one wearing those idiotic Nike flip flops that look like shower shoes while wearing socks.  It’s snowing outside, invest in some boots or sneakers (with Velcro).  If it’s summer and you’re wearing socks with your flip flops, then I suggest you go see your doctor as it’s obvious you have a circulation issue in your extremities.

If there was any way for feet to look stupid….all of the above would be it.

After Home Depot, I had to exchange some glue at JoAnn’s Fabric.  One cashier working and about six people in line.  Sigh.  Another cashier comes up and says she can help the next person in line at the register to the left.

Done.

A third cashier comes up and walks up to me and says she can assist the next person (that would be ME) at the register to the right. Wouldn’t you know it the woman behind me thought she meant HER?!

Okay, I admit it…. I am short.  On a good day, I can stretch out to a 5’2.  Don’t think my height disadvantage means you are going to walk on me.  I will hip check you into the magazine rack.  Not to mention my sharp, pointy elbows can be weapons.  When necessary, I will bite your ankles, no doubt about it.

I immediately blocked Ms. I’m Next with my full featherweight division self and proceeded to exchange my glue.

Ms. I’m Next is a gum chewer.

Like a cow chewing it’s cud.

Or Mrs. Pickles licking her coochie.

It’s still there and I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself.  Keep it to yourself.  I am not a willing participant.  Christ.

Chew with your mouth closed.  I don’t care what you’re eating.  Nor do I need to see it.  My better half chews gum like he’s a lion with peanut butter stuck to the roof of his mouth.  Every time he starts I look at him and say the same thing:

“You’re killing me with the gum.”

Needless to say he knows to get rid of it.  Immediately.

Smart boy.

Last, but not least,  one thing that has baffled me for years….

My office has been in a building with public restroom on the same floor as our office.  It’s a restroom that quite a few tourists visit during the summer season.  The women’s room has three stalls.

I can understand if you have had to pee so bad your back teeth are floating.  When you finally hit the pot you let out a “whhhhewwwww.”  What a relief.  A near miss of an accident.  I’ve been there myself.  With a bladder the size of a lima bean, you can’t help but have to visit the Water Closet on a regular basis.  So I completely understand that concept.

What kills me is the obvious problem women are having with pulling pants up or down, tearing off toilet paper, wiping butts and putting on coats.  The sounds associated with those activities are unbelievable.  You would think they’re at the gym and told to do ten sets of leg presses with 200 pound weights.  Or they just missed seeing a baby in a stroller go by on the sidewalk.  Better yet they were told to hold their breath for as long as they could and it’s now coming out like a burst balloon.

You get a woman in each of those stalls and it’s like a 3 part harmony.  Good grief.

Once the summer season returns, I don’t even bother with the restroom on our floor, I go up one flight of stairs and use that one.  Not only is it quiet but thankfully…there’s never a paper towel stuck to the door handle, water left running in the sink or trash on the floor.

People, you’re exhausting me.  I think this could be a form of torture.

With that being said, I need to return the toilet seat to Home Depot – heaven help the poor soul who has to assist me.  Just let me do the exchange and be on my way.  After that, I’m stopping at Costco.  If I want two of those cheese samples today, you best just hand them over lady.

Trust me.

Back away from the cheese samples…and nobody will get hurt.