Dam Gym

The title’s not a typo.  I’m going to discuss two things with you today:  dams and gyms.  I can tell you’re intrigued!  Don’t you roll your eyes at me, people. Dams and gyms are interesting.

I used to roll my eyes at my parents, well, at my mother really.  My father, whose birthday is today, by the way, (and I’d say happy birthday to him here, but his computer is broken so he will have to wait for me to call and tell him in person) was not generally the disciplinarian that my mother was so most of my eye rolls were directed to her.  “Do not roll those eyes at me!” she’d say.  So I’d stop rolling my eyes and I’d make my chin get all hard and my eyes get evil.  And she’d say, “Don’t you do that with your chin to me!”  And then I’d run to my room and slam the door and throw myself on my bed and cry about how unfair my life was and how mean my mother was for making me clean the bathroom or whatever.  Ben is currently perfecting the Chin Hardening Technique but no on has ever really rolled their eyes at me.  Maybe kids don’t do that anymore?

So back to the dams and gyms.

Yesterday I took the boys to the dentist office.  There is a choice, at one point on our drive to the dentist office, where you can choose to go left or right.  Both ways are about the same drive timewise, but if you go left, you go past the dam at Ebenezer Lake.  As we neared that intersection, Jack reminded me, “Mom.  Don’t forget to take the dam way.”  I said thank you, I would. 

On the other side is a nice little lake.  Note to husband:  I pulled the car off to the side of the road to take this picture.

Jack liked the way his sentence sounded.  He said it a few more times.  “I like going the dam way.  The dam way is the best.  Do you like going the dam way?  The dam way is a good way.”  I started to see that he was really enjoying saying the word “dam” in a socially acceptable way.

Then he actually said, “I think I’m getting pretty comfortable saying the word ‘dam’, mom.  I mean the one that holds up the lake, not the bad word one.  I’m saying the lake one, and I’m getting really comfortable saying it!”

Yippee.

He’s also getting a little too comfortable with the “I’m Se#y And I Know It” song.  I get that it’s silly pop music.  I get that he doesn’t know what it means. But he loves that song and sings it a lot, and he includes a lot of very entertaining dance moves to round out the performance.  I’ve encouraged him to instead be funny with the song and use different adjectives (i.e.:  not SE#Y), hence he’s come up with “I’m poopy and I know it”, “I’m farty and I know it”, “I’m tooty and I know it” etc., and probably the most unfortunate one of all, “I’m Sepcie and I know it” (Sepcie is Uncle Mike’s fiance’s maiden name).  I’m sorry, Aunt Nicole.

I joined a gym!  Here’s a picture of me postworkout:

photo source

I generally go on weekday mornings and usually see my friend Sue there.  Sue is a crazy exerciser! She is my hero!  Here’s a picture I took of her working hard on her leg muscles yesterday and you can see her determination and the strength shining through.

                                                                       Sue is also a crazy multitasker!

No really, Sue gets on that stairclimber thingy for up to an hour.  Then she lifts weights and does sit ups and shakes heavy ropes at walls (don’t ask me, I don’t get that), and then she usually gets back on an exercise bike or an elliptical and does another round of aerobic exercise.  My exercise routine is similar, minus about 30 minutes (on the elliptical), the shaky ropes, and the second round of aerobic exercise. And the sit ups.  I have been using the weight lifting machines and alternate arms and legs every other day though so I should be opening my own jars any day now.

Once I tried going on a Friday evening.  I will never make that mistake again.  All the young whippersnappers were there, getting in shape for their nights on the town/checking each other out/flirting with each other.  I felt like a Lump of Old and Boring Cottage Cheese and left after about  twenty minutes.  I told Dave that I would not be going back again on a Friday night and explained to him about the young and glorious whippersnappers.

                                          Ahhh.  Weekday mornings, these are my kind of people.

Last weekend I went on Saturday morning and when I got home, Jack asked if there were any whippersnappers there.  Luckily, I told him, the whippersnappers are all sound asleep on Saturday mornings, completing ignorant to the fact that the best days of their lives are slowly slipping through their manicured, softly unwrinkled fingers.

Dam gym.