Tag Archives: health

Exercise for Dummies

Namaste! Tree pose with cactus arms.
Namaste! Tree pose with cactus arms.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t need to preface his sentence with “Now . .” It was implied by his tone.

“I’m shoving a magazine down my pants. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“No need to be sarcastic.”

“I’m using the magazine as padding to protect my spine from the hula hoop.” My new waist whittler had killer knobbly bits on the inside. To demonstrate, I gave the hoop a little spin.

“See? No pain. Whoops!” The fruit bowl took a hit and needed to be pushed back a bit. With the table cleared, myself carefully positioned between bed, window and wall, and Jimmy well out of the way, I could get my hooping exercise indoors instead of looking a fool outdoors.

I tried again. “If I put the magazine in my pants, keep my feet firmly planted, put my hips into it, concentrate and don’t let the hoop slow down, there’ll be no damage to me or the trailer.”

“That has to be one of the most stupid things you’ve ever done.”

“Thanks!” Who, after all, wants to be predictable?

“You’ve already injured yourself once.”

That was my leg. I can’t hurt my leg. The table’s in the way.”

“I still think it’s stupid if you’re risking hurting your back.” He’s trying to insult me or frighten me into stopping. It isn’t working.

Exercise is an issue in our confined quarters. We walk when we can, I swim when there’s a pool on the campsite and we both do sit ups about every six months. Even with constant tweaks to our diet to reduce calories and improve nutrition, our waistlines are expanding.

I worry about the blood pressure and obesity implications of eating a big meal then taking one step to the couch to have dessert and vegetate in front of the telly for the rest of the evening.

With Jimmy away for two weeks I had contemplated our lifestyle and found it lacking. In the midst of doing what I wanted, when I wanted to (instead of falling into step with the tour director/camp commandant) I exercised frequently and cleaned up my diet between bouts of reading trashy magazines and watching trashy TV.

“Guess what I had for lunch today?” I had asked Jimmy during one of our international phone calls.

“Please don’t tell me.”

“Sautéed spinach with Parmesan cheese slivers on top.”

“Oh God help me.”

“It was yummy.”

“The thought of it makes me feel sick.”

“Tonight I’m having jumbo shrimp braised with garlic, onion, ginger, Jalapeños courgettes and spinach.”

“I won’t come home.”

“Tomorrow I’m having a crab cake.” Jimmy doesn’t like seafood, shellfish in particular, so I gave him all the details because there’s an unruly streak in me.

Back to the exercise matter, it is only four steps from our dining “room,” or living “room” or “bedroom” to our toilet. We joke about going upstairs to bed. It’s one step up. My pedometer registered just 151 steps from late afternoon to bedtime.

Where’s that hula hoop? And my magazine padding?

How do you include exercise in your daily routine?

Can you imagine me hula-hooping in this same space? It wasn't a great success.
Can you imagine me hula-hooping in this same space? It wasn’t a great success.

Derek the Laptop is Home from Rehab

The diagnostic testing was inconclusive so there is no treatment plan. Derek is slower than ever and I can only conclude that he’s sulking. The tech was too kind to say but my diagnosis is senescence as many of you have suggested although there was a degree of prejudice against his kind where a preference for an Apple exists.

Derek will be destined for an old people’s home while I find a toy boy, technologically speaking that is, but until we decide Which Way Now – USA or Europe – we will hang on to Derek as well as Bill and Bob the naughty 2G phones that refuse to play with the new cell phone tower next door.

Derek thanks everyone who has shown concern for his welfare but has been quite distressed at the number of people who feel I should trade him in for a piece of fruit.

Now he’s been mesmerized by this slide show of white-tailed deer at Ochlockonee River State Park in Florida:

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Rehab for Derek the Laptop

Cartoons 2013
No Derek! Not again! (Photo credit: Robin Hutton)

The bills are paid, the checkbook is balanced. I’ve had a last troll through WordPress Reader, Facebook, Twitter, Gmail, Pinterest , three different Hotmail-now-Outlook email accounts and Amazon, both .com and .co.uk. The local-to-seven-time-zones-away newspaper has been checked for football (you call it soccer) results; BBC.co.uk has been scanned a last time. Zoopla.co.uk and Zillow.com have been perused for houses. Again.

The time has come. Derek the laptop is being sent away for treatment.

He indulged in some self-help aided by his friend, Mr. Norton, several months ago to no avail which resulted in a short hospital stay. Now a longer stint in rehab is required.

His problems are two-fold. We’ve filled his belly with double doses of music, photos and text files which is partly to blame for his worsening mental functions. None of us perform well after a big lunch. But a rapidly developing early onset dementia is now made apparent by blank screens and infuriating little circles that go ‘round and ‘round and ‘round which indicates I’m thinking before he blurts that tired old message, the only one he can recall, this page can’t be displayed. His instant recall is rubbish.

Not helping his troubled mind, Derek has been at odds with the new AT&T tower next door. He feeds his poorly brain with a 4G Verizon signal but AT&T badgers him so he constantly loses his train of thought.

To give him a break from the neighbor’s harassment I take Derek to the library for a refreshing dose of free Wi-Fi. His condition causes him to repeatedly drop the signal, like a baby with a rattle. He won’t pick it up and I can’t pick it up for him. The other boys and girls are playing happily on their laptops, but Derek made me complain to the librarian despite the fact that he was the wayward one.

The signal is fine. See that green circle? No-one else has complained. I think the problem is . . . . . . . , and she looked at me sympathetically before her eyes dropped to Derek.

Back at home he returns to his meditative state. My brain is always full of chatter but Derek can clear his mind beautifully and just ooooooooooom.

I could put Derek in a home and use the library computers but their browsers aren’t up to date and don’t support spellcheck on WordPress. As  I am a teribul tipist and my speeling is werse I have developed a spellcheck dependency disorder. Which means I am co-dependent with Derek.

And I would miss his warm presence on my lap.

20070820 - decommissioning storm - 0 - IMG_327...
The nice man won’t operate. I promise! (Photo credit: Rev. Xanatos Satanicos Bombasticos (ClintJCL))

C’mon Derek, off you go. There’s a good lad. The nice man won’t hurt you. He’ll hook you up to life support, run some diagnostics for a couple of days and then put you on a detox.

I don’t know how else to help you.

Have you had too many cookies?

Joanna at Multifarious Meanderings has had her share of problems with Gizmo, the Smarty-Pants Phone.

Are we all in thrall to our electronic friends? Worse still, do they all have names?

Enhanced by Zemanta

New Year’s Day and the Dumb Lights

Nature making a much better job of pretty lights than yours truly. Portuguese Man-of- War at sunset at Henderson Beach FL
Nature making a much better job of pretty lights than yours truly. Portuguese Man-of-
War at sunset at Henderson Beach FL

The embarrassing wreath I described in this post had been consigned to a dumpster, but I hadn’t given up on the puddling and exasperating lights.

We had made a carelessly arranged Santa’s grotto by plugging in a string of lights and hanging them ’round the bed – the bed that is in our sitting room/dining room which is in the kitchen. The soft glow of the little lights had a kind of artless charm.

But our cozy grotto had to be dismantled each time we moved campsite, which was frequently, as we had neglected to make reservations at this we-now-know busy time of year.

Who wants to go camping for Christmas? Quite a few people as it happens. Those who want to get away for Christmas and those who want to get away from Christmas. And us, because we’d nowhere else to go.

New Year’s Eve was spent at a campsite where you would not choose to go intentionally and the lights did not put in an appearance.

Sunset on the  boardwalk. Nature comes up trumps again.
Sunset on the boardwalk. Nature comes up trumps again.

On New Year’s Day we arrived at Henderson Beach State Park on the Gulf coast near Destin. It was a sunny but sheltered site where we could pull out the awning. When I say we, I mean I busied myself with the awning and Plan C for the lights while Jimmy fiddled around with inconsequential things like unhitching the trailer from the car and plugging us in to the mains and water.

With the awning extended and pulled down where I could reach it, I wrapped the lights around one strut, strung them across the top of the awning and then down and around the other strut. I hadn’t anticipated needing to open and close the door, so had to take down and rearrange all 46 feet of lights so I could raise the awning a little.

That accomplished I waited for darkness. Very pretty.

The next day thunderstorms were predicted and as we were going out for the day we had to furl up the awning. So the lights came down. But never mind. I strung them through the bushes next to us. Very pretty.

The next day the park ranger came to our site to tell us that we couldn’t hang the lights from the vegetation. But never mind. I took them down and strung them along the washing line next to the trailer. Very pretty.

The next day we had to move the trailer to another site within the campground. Of course the lights had to come down. At the new site . . . well the washing line post was a long way from the trailer, but I hung them up anyway, looping them right across our campsite so they were dragging on the ground.

They looked stupid.

But never mind, it was Twelfth Night, so I took them down.

Admiring the sunset instead of fretting over Christmas lights.
Admiring the sunset instead of fretting over Christmas lights. Notice the nasty stinging little Portuguese Man-of-War still twinkling appealingly on the wet sand.

Happy New Year to all my friends, relictives (haha) and bloggy pals.

Wishing you all a happy, healthy, prosperous and peaceful new year.