31 Day Work Detox

Hello-  My name is Max and I am a workaholic.  They say the toughest thing is admitting you have a problem and I do have that....... a problem.  I try to leave work at work but it is an itch that begs to be scratched.  I say over and over that I will not check my work email, but then I encounter some down time and before I know it I have unconsciously logged on to the work account.  I figure since it is open there is no harm in scanning the emails to see if there is anything important and needs my immediate attention.

Yup-  full fledged addict.

My table any given weekend

My official last day of work was Nov 28, 2014.  I was prepared to have five weeks of uninterrupted leisure time.  That was the plan on paper anyways.   As the clock ticked down to the start of my vacation my pulse rate increased along with my stress and my level of dread.  I had way too much unfinished work.   How could I leave and relax knowing I was leaving a disarray of paperwork.

Answer-  I couldn't.  I bit the bullet and decided to spend my first weekend of vacation getting caught up on outstanding reports and letters.... two very full days of work and I still did not get it all done.  I left the building on Sunday hesitant but determined I would not spend the rest of my vacation dwelling on the three things I did not get done.

So what!  The holiday started off rough but it could only get better right?

Dec 1- 4th I checked my emails at least seven times a day, if not more.   What?

I still had many, many days to relax- no sense in allowing my mailbox to expand to an unmanageable size.  Plenty of time to have fun.

By the 5th I realized if I let myself continue to be sucked into the work vortex I would be unofficially working the full holiday.  I had to detox...... and detox fast.  I should have just phoned a priest and had an exorcism or made an appointment to have a lobotomy.   That would have been the easy way out.

I thought I was strong, but my yearning to know what was going on was stronger.   By the 12th I had many slips but had also had a few days of not checking my email at all.  I employed the ancient technique of throwing myself into other projects with reckless abandon.  As long as my brain and body were busy, the desire to check emails was held in check.    But the minute there was a some down time I was fighting the urge to just peek at the email.... just a little bit..... not too much!

Desire and curiosity are powerful biatches!

As of today my desire to check my work email has been mentally whipped out of me.  All it took was 4 consecutive weeks off for my mind to de-program from work mode and enter into relaxation mode.

That is just plain sad.  

I joke that I have an Etch-a-sketch brain.... one that erases with a shake of the head.  Sadly this holiday has proven that I don't.  I  have faced the fact that I have been saddled with an elephant memory and an uber strong work ethic.  Both haunt me by periodically providing me with mental images of what I did not get done prior to leaving.  They are my kryptonite.  What I need to slay in order to enjoy a
few moments of blissful relaxation.

Now I have reached my final week of vacation my brain has decided to lead a revolt against returning to work.  It is like a two year old in midst of a full tantrum...... NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!   NO, NO, NO!!!!!  

Why?

Because I am finally on Vacay and am planning on enjoying every last second of it!

Peace on Earth.... and in my head!

Underwear Roulette

Available at the Keep Calm-o-Matic website

I don' know about you but I am afflicted by a bubble butt.  I had a Kardashian before any of the Kardashians were a glimmer in their parents eyes.  If you also have a bubble butt you can commiserate.  Finding a comfortable pair of underwear can be a like undertaking a quest to find the Holy Grail.

Once I find a brand that has manners and stays in place, hugging the curve but never ride up it.... I buy as many pairs as I can... you know just in case there is a year long snow storm or they stop making that brand.  You think with all this preparation I would be safe from experiencing having my panties in a bunch!

NOT SO MUCH!

I think there is an evil genius working at each underwear company.  The main goal in each of these geniuses lives is to make underwear that looks like, feels like and initially acts like all the other underwear but it is secretly Ninja underwear ready to surprise you with a "Crack Attack" the moment your not expecting it. This Ninja underwear is all about stealth.  It lies in wait.  Why surprise you when you have an opportunity to exchange it with another mild manner pair.

NO!  NO FUN IN THAT!

Ninja underwear allows you to leave the house and drive to work.  As you walk into the building you slowly feel the left side creeping up the curve into the nether regions.  It rights itself.  All is right with the world again.  Maybe you just imagined it.  You are now walking down the hall to your office or getting on the elevator, the right side starts creeping up.  It goes higher and higher.   You look to see if you will get caught retrieving wayward Righty and you work it back into place willing it to behave and stay put.    It seems to listen.  You make it to your office and through two meetings.  But the underwear is playing you, it is lulling you into a false sense of security and then.....

BAMMM!

Both sides are up in your grill.  Of course you are busy and in a crowded area so you just smile and wave and hope that you can ignore the fact that you are now chaffing and generally miserable.

You say to yourself...... "That's it, I am throwing these naughty buggers out the second I get home!".  Of course you get home and you think about all the Criminal Minds and CSI episodes involving stalkers and question if you really should be throwing out worn underwear that anyone can pick out of your trash.  That's when your mind comes up with a plan..... "Wash them first and then throw them out!!!!!" This makes the Ninja underwear very, very happy!

WHY?

It allows the nasty beasties to mix in with the "good" underwear.  They know how to blend.  If you listen carefully you may hear a faint snicker as when they realise that you can't tell them apart from the comfortable pairs.  You start to panic comparing sample to sample-    "Was it this one?   No maybe it was that one?"

UGGGHHHHH!

Now you are scared you are going to throw out the good underwear.

ANGST!

An executive decision is made to keep both pairs and hope you will be able to ferret out the heinous pair before you leave the house the next time.  Hence the birth of Underwear Roulette.  You take the comfort of your buttocks into your hands every time you select a pair of underwear from the underwear drawer.

"Go Ahead!  Make my day punk!"

PS-  I am pleased to say that I was able to identify one of the culprits which is now on their way to the landfill..... just one more pair to go and my buttocks will be safe..... for now!

Life Is A Highway- Unless Your Dog is a Bonehead!

My dog has it in his head that he is golden and nothing bad will happen to him.   I am sure when he looks into the mirror this is what he sees....

Picture from US Magazine.com

But the reality is more like this......

As you can see, there is a valid reason for his assumption.... he is a Golden.  Unfortunately, the name of his breed does not provide him with any extra super-dog powers... no matter how much he tries to be a member of Marvel's Avenger Team.  

 

Over the years I have experienced countless seconds of panic and shear terror and hours of worry.  Here is a sampling of his "golden" moments.

4 months old-  He decided that it would be a great idea to try and eat my Schick Quattro razor.  This resulted in his swallowing one of the blades and me spending the next two days squishing bags of poo trying to make sure the blade came out.  I am sure the neighbours thought I was loosing it.... "Yep Martha she is out there squishing poo bags again.  Now she is jumping up and down, celebrating!  Do you think we need to phone someone?"

4 months- present-  I used to have a running total of all the socks, tights, etc. that he swallowed, regurgitated or passed.  I stopped at 13 that was around about his 3rd birthday..... he is now 9.   As he as aged he need to eat hosiery has decreased but very now and again, when my guard is down he surprises me.  When Gimli arrived, I bought Golden Retrievers for Dummies.  The book recommended pet insurance because Golden's are know to eat everything.  So true.

 

You are probably wondering why I do not pick-up said items and put them out of the dogs reach.  I trust me I do..... the rest of the furry herd i.e. the cat has taken to finding the socks and knocking them down for the dog.  Are they working in tandem or is the cat secretly trying to kill the dog?  This is an unsolved mystery. 

11 months-  We were chilling at a rest stop in Michigan.  All of a sudden he noticed the long curved drive in.  A light bulb thought bubble appeared over this head and I heard a ding as he turned and took off at full tilt down the drive.  That was not enough for him. He hungered for more distance and speed.  What's a dog to do?

 

Solution- turn and head down the middle of the highway with traffic coming at you from both directions.  I was beside myself.  He was not responding to my "YOOOOOOOOUUUUUU COMMMMMMMEEEEEE!"  In his mind he was....



Picture courtesy of The Flash TV Series



the fastest dog in the world.  He was off and running, no cares in the world.  There were beautiful butterflies floating by and the path was lined with unicorns.  My frantic screaming put a halt to this reverie and he realized his presence was required else where.  He returned cutting across the middle of the rest area, but before I could clip the leash on him he turned his head, noticed the road again and was off with a click of his heels.  Repeat cycle. 

 

Needless to say he lost off leash privileges after that little escapade.  

1 1/2 years-  He decided to eat fungi on a back-packing trip.  The fungi was poisonous.  He was gravely ill and was cyanotic for weeks after.  Milk Thistle to the rescue.  Now when back-packing the dog has his own First Aid kit.  Sadly he feels the need to create situations so it can be used each trip.   It's a good thing it is well stocked.

 

5 yrs-  There is something  about  curved and "L" shaped roads that floats Gimli's boat.  He is attracted to them and for whatever reason feels the need to run full tilt when he sees this type of configuration.  Could he turn to the left and run down the non-traffic side. 

 

Noooooooooooo!

 

Where would the fun be in that.  No he always heads to the right to run across 4 lanes of a highly used street to stand on the other side.  When he notices that I am not following he runs back across.  Now as an observer your heart is in your mouth, your stomach is flipping and "S" and "F" words are coming out of your mouth involuntarily.  He has only done this twice but it is two times too many.  The last time the cars stopped and waited for him to cross.  Apparently his running high clouds his awareness of his environment,  as he ran directly into the side of a car that stopped to let him pass safely.   That was a "Du Oh" moment.   

 

7 yrs-  He decided he needed X-rays two months in a row.  He ate a stick of butter, an ice cream sundae, a steak, a bake-potato (foil and all) and a bar of soap.  Of concern was the fact that to the best of my knowledge the foil had not come out and he became sick.  X-rays revealed no foil present.  (Please note that this was at his Grandparents house-  He was under their supervision not mine)

The next month he decided to eat 2/3's of a bag of Cat in the Hat fridge magnets.  I wish I had the X-rays to post.   Very sparkly!!  (Again please note it was Grandma who left the bag of magnets on the ground.... not me)

He now has a reputation at the Vet.  As soon as I come in they ask.... "What has he eaten now?"

8 yrs-  During another back-packing trip, he decided he was a member of the flying Wallenda's and leaped off the top of a 6-foot rock only to land on his stomach on the edge of the rock that was 3-feet below it.  That contributed to a long night in the middle of the bush worrying that he might be bleeding internally.  Gimli of course decided to self-medicate and ate some hidden fungi (I think he was a truffle pig in a previous life as he can find fungi like no one's business).   Was the resulting twitching and night terrors a result of hallucinogenic mushrooms he ate or internal injuries?  I will never know.  All I know was it was a very, very long night for me and we both made it out safe and sound the next day. 

 

9yrs-  Last week was the kicker of all kickers when it comes to Gimli-capades.  I was going out of town for work so he had to stay at the kennel.  We arrived at the kennel just as a snow squall hit.  He likes the kennel and snow... so his transition into the paddocks was not an issue.  He was busy running around sniffing out remnants of pee-mail when we both realised at the same time.... the gate was not closed.  He beat me to the gate-  he is the dog version of the Flash.... was there really any hope that I, a mere human, would be able to beat him.   He ran out into the yard and that is when he spotted the "L"-shaped lane. 

 

Now you are probably thinking "Oh crap!!!!!".  I know I was. 

 

Before I even had "Gim" out of my mouth he was down the long lane and on the highway, running into on coming traffic.  By the time I made it to the end of the lane he was about 500- 700 metres down the highway on the opposite side. 

 

That is when two things happened.  He stopped and turned and I noticed the semi.  Now I could barely see him in the white-out conditions I hoped the Semi who was closer would be able to make out that he was there.  Before I could react,  Gimli darted across the road on his way back to me.  There were two tense filled seconds while I waited to see if he was fast enough to beat the Semi.  Thank the Lord he was.  Then there were some more angst filled moments while he kept pace with the Semi down the highway until he ended up in my arms and the confines of his collar. 

 

I definitely do not want to relive anything like that in the near future.  I still get the shakes thinking about it. 

 

Lessons you can learn from this post-  the power of prayer works,  gates are a gals best friend as long as they are closed, Gimli is like Mikey of commercial fame-  He'll eat anything and socks and fungi can be delicacies for dogs so beware.

The Max Paradox

It never fails, what I want to do is not what I am supposed to be doing.  Let's take right now for instance.  What I really, really want to do is write more for this blog.  The creative and humour juices are really flowing this morning.

 What am I supposed to be doing?

Doom...... DOOOm..... DOOOOOOOOMMMMMM!
(ominous music playing in the background)

I am supposed to be opening the black briefcase of doom and writing reports; so  I am all caught up before I take my month's vay-cay.

It has always been this way.  My desire to run increases 200 fold when I have an injury that side-lines me from running.  My need for an uber clean house is magnified if I have to study for a test.  You could always tell when it was exam time in university... my dorm room or apartment was super neat, organized and you could frankly eat off the floor it was so sterile.  I long to visit home but when I have to leave to travel there I want to stay where I live now.  The list goes on and on.

So I have had to resort to making a deal with myself..... finish this posting and do one more and then it is straight to the black box to write reports.  I am sure I will give myself some time off for good behaviour so who knows... if I am not all computered out, there may be another post tonight.

Hmm, but maybe I should be posting my catch-up posts in the Photo Challenge blog I am a part of?

Ahhhhhhh another paradox!

Oops!  I was supposed to be proof-reading and finalizing this post but got side tracked looking up the definition for paradox..... now I am confused..... maybe too confused to write reports.  I am also querying if the above is truly a paradox.  I might be unwittingly misrepresenting paradoxes.

Must solve the paradox mystery before I can accomplish anything else.  Off to do some more Googling!

PS-  Can someone please explain to me why I have such a hard time spelling the word oops.  It is only 4 letters for crying out loud and everytime I type it, I type opps!  One day maybe I will be able to spell it right on the first try.

PPS-  Paradox solved-  Productive procrastination!!!!!  I will be able to sleep tonight knowing that I will not be sued by a paradox for inaccurate representation.

And So It Begins......

I recently found out trouble with the curve is a baseball term meaning someone who has difficulty hitting a curve ball.  I thought it was also a fitting title for a blog about facing and dealing with the curve ball's that life throws you and as such co-opted the term.

What inspired me to start this blog?

The fact that I have it all together and am awesome at providing sage advice?

Nope and Nope.

The impotence behind the blog was my recent decision to join a Corporate Fitness Challenge at work.   I would love to say that as soon as I heard about the Challenge I was all over it like a "sugar freak on a Smartie"....

I wasn't!!!!!!

When the Challenge was being explained to us, all I could think was "For the love of the Lord... why!  Why, did they not let those of us who will not be participating go so we could get lunch and check our emails!  This is tedious and torturous.  I walked out of the room feeling ornery!  I wanted to hit someone or something. It was safe to say a Fitness Challenge was positively, absolutely something that I would not be doing in my lifetime!

Later that week a curve ball caused me to rethink my original position.  I am taking part in a 365 Day Photo Challenge (something else that has caused me angst over the last year).  One of the challenges was to take a picture of "Too Small".  I thought and thought and came up with a plan to take a picture of my old Cheerleading outfit as I knew it would definitely be too small.

As I put the skirt around my thigh, I was faced with the concrete proof that the skirt, that used to fit around my waist, when I was a teen, only fit around one thigh with only 2" to spare.

UGGGHHH!!!

I know my cup has started to runneth over in the curve department, as I have aged, but a waist-sized thigh... say it ain't so!

You have probably heard of Helen of Troy-  the  face that launch a thousand ships.  I am not her.  I am the woman who has a thigh that launched a quest to find a semblance of the fitness level that I had in my youth.  

Proof that it did fit at one time.

Enter stage left... Corporate Fitness Challenge.  The Challenge ceased to be a heinous and instantly became a life preserver.  Something to motivate me to get off my flabby behind and start challenging myself to improve my health, my fitness and to find a balance between work and life.

The only problem.... a pre-health screen to take all my vital statistics height, weight, degree of wobble in my wobbly bits.

It was hard enough seeing the photographic evidence proving what years of neglect had done to my body.... I did not need more bad news.   I borrowed from "Frozen" for this one and decided to "Let it Go!"  The only place to go was up.  Any improvement was just that an improvement.

In the end I did better at the fitness screen than I thought I would.  However, I was not prepared for my traumatic flashbacks to Canadian Fitness testing in grade school.  At least there was no flexed arm hang.   I am also amused to report that over the last 30 odd years there has been little change in the flexibility in my hamstrings and my ability to do a push-up.  During the sit and reach the trainer commented that it would be easier to rest my finger-tips on the edge of the measuring device..... my reply...''Umm I am trying, but it does not seem like that will be possible right now!"

Yes dear reader-  it is true.  If it was possible to score negative numbers in the sit- and- reach I would.  My hamstrings have never been bendy.... okay they were for a very brief period when I was Cheerleading but they quickly retreated to Inflexible Land the moment I stopped needing to do the splits.

But my real kryptonite is any activity that requires me to use a tricep, deltoid.... heck who am I trying to kid.... any arm and shoulder muscle . Push-ups, well this ole' enemy continues to plague me.  When I was younger I held the belief that if I had bigger breasts I would have be able to do more push-ups.  See the bustier students did not have to bend their elbows to a full 90 degrees, as that may result in accidental grazing of the bustial region which would be deemed inappropriate touching.  Me-  with my lack of boobage, basically had to touch my nose to the ground and return to a fully up right position to count as a full push-up.  Sadly this long held belief was disproved during the recent testing.  I now have front curves and even though I don't have to dip down as low as I did when I was younger, I still could not muster more than 5 push-ups in a row and even that was pushing it.

Well here is hoping that the next six weeks brings about a few noticeable changes and maybe a smidgen more arm strength.... if not I will be typing out the blog using a mouth stick!