I haven’t been blogging, even though I’ve been thinking about blogging. The reasons? I’ve been busy embroidering (nap mat season has started), my kids are out of school, my laundry has been humping itself and multiplying, and swim team is killing me just a little bit.
Even though I’ve only made it to the gym once this week because of crazy swim team practice scheduling and summer camp preschool stuff, I’ve ridden my new bike (!!!) twice. Tonight I really wanted to work out, so I ignored the fact that it was raining and went for a long bike ride. I got completely soaked but instead of letting it bother me I actually enjoyed it. I remember riding my 12-speed to work at Potter’s Bakery in Traverse City in the wee hours of the morn (yeah, like 6 AM in the summer). One particularly memorable event: riding down Center Road under a brilliant and huge full moon, while listening to Bananarama on my bright yellow sports Walkman. “Robert DeNiro’s waiting . . . talking Italian . . .” More interesting imagining letting my own children ride 5 miles-ish to work in the dark, without a bike helmet, on a busy road with no shoulders or bike path, wearing a Walkman that drowned out any car noises. It goes without saying that times have changed!
The one day I did make it to the gym, I was scarred for life. I should have been forewarned - the women who work in Child Watch were talking about the “Guy With The Foot” when I dropped off Lily and Arden. I tried to get them to explain but they clammed up.
Fast forward 15 minutes. I’m sweating in a swine-like fashion when I look up into the weight room. Imagine a Vietnam-era vet or hippy-turned-Harley rider stereotype. You know, lots of wrinkles from smoking. Red bandana around the hair (long, of course, and braided, of course). Only this guy was doing calf presses. And one of his legs, from the knee down, was buck naked. As in no sock, no pant leg, no shoes - no nothin’. This would normally disturb me as his sweating leg was rubbing all over the equipment I, and many others, use on a regular basis. Unfortunately I didn’t have time to be disturbed because my mouth flopped open and my eyes bugged out.
Something was SERIOUSLY wrong with this dude’s foot. It was swollen, almost like a diabetic’s foot, but covered in what can only be called a crust. Mixed into the crust were random red spots that glistened and oozed occasionally. He was also missing at least one toe but I couldn’t bring myself to look at the bloated foot long enough for an accurate count.
I get that he’s hurt. He probably got hurt fighting for our country, or after a bar fight to protect some woman’s honor . . . but how can it be sanitary, or even safe, to wander around the gym with one oozing foot completely bare??? I’m all about working out and being healthy. I’m also not normally squeamish, but watching him wander from machine to machine, swinging the OozeFoot with him and touching all the things I will probably never touch again just put me over the edge.
Anyone else skeeved by this??? Oh, the topper? Never saw him wipe down a machine. Nope, not once.
(uncomfortable silence followed by non-sequitur)
Summer vacation has officially started. Melissa Summers is being slammed, as she is annually, by all the bloggers who hate her and love to call her a bad mom because she hates summer vacation and can’t seem to find a good way to fill up all those hours with her two kids without going insane. I’m lucky - both kids are enrolled in camps for half days. This is good for two reasons - too much togetherness makes all of us crazy, and summer is the busiest time of the year for me. Momma gotta work! But back to Miss Summers. I don’t find fearing summer vacation bash-worthy. I do think if you dread summer that much, you ought to get your kids involved in some major camp-fests or whatever floats your boat and keeps you sane. I just think it’s funny that every summer Melissa blogs about all of those hours, and the same few bloggers who write anonymous hate-blogs get all up in arms about it. I also think it’s funny that Melissa normally only responds to negative comments on her blog, which are few and far between . . . but believe me, that’s a blogger rant for another day.
In the meantime, I’m chugging away, hoping to put a serious dent in Ye Olde Lyne of Credit and trying to make sure my kids have a well-rounded summer, the perfect balance of education, chlorine, and s’mores.
