August 2007


So I had my first group lesson in ballroom on Monday.  It was … interesting.  They lined us up with the women on one side and the men on the other, and the women rotated through the men so that everyone danced with everyone else.  We had No-Bones-Guy who was like dancing with marshmallow goo.  I could sqoosh right through his frame.  Next was Sweaty-Palms-Guy.  No explanation necessary there, but ick!  There were two guys who counted outloud.  I can kind of understand that because when I’m working on an ice dance alone, I do count outloud.  When I’m with my coach though, there is no counting outloud.  So I vote that when you dance with someone, you count inside your head.  There was also Bore-Your-Eyes-Through-the-Back-of-My-Skull-Guy.  He freaked me out.  I thought I was feeling a little violated until I go to the last one who was Hi-I’m-Wearing-a-Gallon-of-Cologne-and-I’m-Going-to-Stare-at-Your-Boobs-the-WHOLE-Time-Guy.  Ack ack ack!  I was like, “Hey, Fella, eyes up here!”  But I didn’t have the balls to say anything to him.  It was horrible!  Now if I’m being generous, I might say it wasn’t entirely his fault that he stared at my boobs because that’s about where he came to on me (and, hello, I’m only like 5’4″ or so!).  However, he did occassionally pop his head up and look at me with this total Lester the Molester grin.  Then sure enough, those eyes would drift back to my boobs.  Gaggers.  And these people expect me to come back for more group lessons.  *shudders at the thought*

In other news, I was right about D not doing anything about that whole situation from last Thursday.  Everything is back to normal.  Though I have to say it’s kind of like normal with a twist.  Sunday was not at all normal.  See, I really realized what I had done what with the ass-grabbing and all, and I could NOT look him in the eye.  I could barely say “hi”.  So I spent the entire practice avoiding talking to him or being within 50 feet of him.  Can anyone say “awkward”???  Gak, it was just awful!  I think in the entire practice we exchanged four sentences.  Once it was over, I hung around for about thirty seconds so as to not give the impression that I was fleeing the scene, but that’s precisely what I did.  Monday was another very professional lesson.  I had my new skates on for the first time, so we were spending the whole time doing things to get a feel for the boots and blades, so we were quite occupied.  Tuesday he was teaching my friend Stephanie, so we talked just a bit when they were taking a break and then again when he was leaving, but it was all about my skates.  Tuesday night there was a little bit of sexually charged texting going on (it was about the cartoon chickitas painted on the bottom of my skates and very silly).  I’m glad we had that though because today was much more normal with comments about me arse sticking out all over the place.  He didn’t say things like, “Your rear end is in the wrong position”.  It was more like, “Get your ass down” and some goofy joke about my ass sticking out.  So that was good – much more relaxed.  I met him and J at the batting cages tonight and all was very normal.  I’m glad about that.  I don’t know – it’s so weird.  Normal but still weird.  I kind of hate it when someone knows that I’ve had thoughts about them.  But then again, if they don’t know, then they don’t know it’s okay for them to ask you out or whatever.  However, in this case, since he’s never going to ask me out, it’s just the big suck that he knows.  On the other hand, I know that he’s talked to people about this as well, so maybe he’s embarrassed too.  Or maybe, and I’m going out on a limb here, maybe I’m overanalyzing this and I need to get over my bad self and find my 42-year-old triathlete that I want.  Urgh!!!  But yeah, my final analysis of the whole thing is that he’s never going to do anything, and I’m not willing to put myself on the line like that, so I’m not going to do anything either.  Therefore, nothing will happen.  Okay!  I hope I’m done talking about this.  It’s really stupid!

So freaking bored.  It’s Saturday night, and I’m sitting here at home with my dog.  Pathetic!  Which is not to say that I didn’t try.  I got semi-dressed up (meaning black jeans and a nice shirt) and went down to the Chili’s which is pretty much the only thing out here in the sort-of country.  What I found is that Chili’s in BFE is not so much the hoppin’ joint I’d hoped it would be.  Blech.  So I left after twenty minutes.  I could’ve driven twenty or thirty minutes and found plenty of people and fun, but I didn’t want to drive that far.  So the low-motivation portion of my boredom is totally my fault.

I have a story that I’m not sure if I should tell.  Then again, not being one for censorship, why censor myself, right?  I just hope none of these people, one in particular, read this thing.  I’m 99.999% certain that they don’t though.  Okay, so on Thursday, we had our first softball game which we lost.  I had an RBI, yay, but I also had numerous fielding errors, boo.  Afterwards, we went to Friday’s for drinks, and J asked if I wanted to go to this country bar with some of them after.  Of course I wanted to!  They got to change clothes, but since I live so far away, I had to go out in my softball uniform.  And yeah, I still had cleats on.  Lovely!  Note to self: pack a change of go-out clothes and put them in the car just in case.  Okay, so off we went to the bar.  The band was really good – I’d say who they were, but I can’t remember the name.  Anyway, I ended up in this conversation with R who basically wanted to know why D and I weren’t having sex.  What???  Yeah.  Holy shit!  After picking my jaw up off the floor, I explained to him that it would just be too weird.  It could possibly mess up ice dancing stuff, and I can’t have that.  Um, and there’s also the little issue of a 14-year age difference.  That’s with me being the older one.  With that said, I do look waaaaaaay younger than I actually am, and quite frankly, I act much younger than I actually am.  It may have something to do with being around teenagers day in and day out at the rink.  Possibly.  Or I could just be in denial about my actual age.  I personally don’t see any way that I am over 21.  In actuality, I am 37.  How the fucking fuck did that happen?  Anyway, yes, the math makes D 23.  Is that icky?  Does that make me like Monica on “Friends” when she was doing the senior … in high school?  I don’t know.  Nobody else seems to think that the age difference should matter.  “It’s a state of mind,” they kept saying, and “Older women know things that younger ones don’t.”  Well, that is true for sure.  I don’t think I like being categorized as an “older woman” though.  The next thing I was told was that the last time we all went to this particular bar in this particular grouping of people, the guys spent the entire time telling D that he and I needed to be having the sex.  Holy crapping hell.  What is with these people?  I had no idea that anything like that was going on that night.  I’m not even sure when it was that they were talking about it!  Can’t figure it out.

Anyway, I managed to end that conversation by needing to pee (stupid beer, why do you unleash the bladder so?).  When I came out of the bathroom, I found the girls and was hanging out with them.  The guys were in the bathroom too.  Forever.  And for even ever.  It was ridiculous.  When they came out, we decided to go to this other country bar that’s next door.  On the way over, D told me that they were practically dunking him in the toilet (I believe the term he used was “swirlie”.  God, somebody’s going to google “swirlie” and read this.  Please don’t let it be one of these people; I would just die!) over this whole issue.  I have no recollection of what I said, but it was like there was this understanding that we both knew everyone was trying to get us in the sack.  Jeez, this is beyond tacky.  Then R grabbed me and said I needed to grab D’s ass.  And then J started in too.  Well, I was tipsy and it seemed like a good idea at the time, so I did it.  I am still beyond mortified, but I gotta say, nice ass!  I’m such an ass girl too.  There is nothing like a nice ass on a guy.  And this is skater ass, so yeah, you can imagine.  Yum!  Oops, I should not be saying such things!  I told him I was sorry though – it was really inappropriate.  I was pressured though, so it had to be done (see, kids, this is why you have got to stand up to peer pressure.  Look at the idiot you can make of yourself if you don’t).

Okay, so we got to the new bar, and D paid my cover which was very nice.  I bought him a drink inside.  See, not a spur of the moment date.  It was all fair-ish.  The cover was more than the drink.  J pointed out the beer wench’s boobs and we decided we ought to go over and tell her how nice they were.  Drunken me is a fan of the boobs.  I think it was while we were on the way over there that he told me he had told D that we could borrow his spare room that night.  Seriously ridiculous.  I just laughed because D was designated driver (despite the one or two drinks, but he could handle it, so it was fine) and I knew there was no way in hell that his judgement would be impaired enough to think this was a good idea.  Or mine.  I don’t know if there’s enough alcohol in the world for me to find any of this a good idea no matter how very very very tempting it is.

On the way home, we got a little lost and ended up somewhere on Harry Hines which is well-populated with hookers, though we didn’t see any to my great disappointment.  The other stuff on Harry Hines is cheap motels and sex shops, the latter of which is where we ended up.  Um, I have never in my life seen such shockingly large anal plugs (great, another charming googleage to end up in my stats).  Seriously, what kind of worn out asshole would you have to have to fit a plug that had to have been six inches in diameter at its widest point?  I’m not easily disturbed by sex stuff, thanks to my porn-loving ex-boyfriend, but good goobies, that’s a big plug!  They did have some cute lingerie though.  I didn’t try any on and do a little show.  See how magnificently restrained I was?  Yeah, I’m impressed with myself there.

We finally headed home, and as we were driving up to J’s, he kept saying to D, “You’re coming in, you’re coming in.”  And D kept saying no.  It finally dawned on me (it’s true, alcohol does kill brain cells) that what J was actually saying was “Both of you are coming in and you’re going to have some sex.  Great success!”, and D was saying, “No way, man, it would be way too weird.”  So we got dropped off, and I was getting in my car when J walked over.  And this is where all of this gets beyond bizarre.

J said, “I’m trying.  I’m really trying to convince him.”

I said, “I know.”

“He just worries that things would change between you guys, and he doesn’t want that.  I keep telling him nothing will change though.  I told him ‘She’s cool, man, don’t worry about it.'”  Lol at that!

I said, “Yeah, I worry about that too.  I also don’t want him to get in trouble.”  And perhaps here is where I should further explain what all the issues here are.  I’m talking about my coach.  Getting involved in a coach-student relationship is an extraordinarily bad idea.  It would change everything, no matter what J thinks.  There’s just no way that things wouldn’t change and get freaky and all that.  One thing I left out up top is that R even asked me about that – two questions actually – he asked, “Would anything change tomorrow?  I mean would he still be your coach and all that?”  And I said nothing would change, he would still be my coach and he would still be paid like normal for that since it’s a totally separate thing.  See, I’m not Jerry Seinfeld looking for free maid service or massages or whatever the hell it was.  And then he asked, “Would you be in ice dancing without him?”  And I said no.  I’ve made this very clear before – I will not be coached by anyone else.  It wouldn’t be the same at all.  The trust wouldn’t be there like what I have with D.  He knows a lot about my personal life, and I can joke with him, and I can be provocative and inappropriate (to some degree) with him, and I don’t think I could do that with a different coach.  That’s part of the fun I have with him in a lesson is being obnoxious.  Good times!  But D has also been very good about keeping that “professional shield” up which keeps us from being too naughty.  We can talk about all sorts of stuff, but no touching (except apparently for when I grabbed his ass.  Oh, where is a hole in the ground???).  So when these charming people were teasing us when we were all together, D kept saying “professional shield”.

Anyway, I went on to say, “Besides, if anything were to happen, our boss would know in like five seconds.”  I also work at the rink, so we have the same boss.

And J said, “Oh, she already knows.”

Excuse me?  What the fuck?  She already knows???  Oh my gosh, does this mean what I think it means?  And what I think it means is that it is apparently common knowledge at the rink that D and I are “supposed” to be having sex.  I just have this vision in my head of everyone there talking about this just like they talk about everything and everyone else.  Can’t you picture it?  Fifteen people in a circle around the front desk taking bets on when D and I are going to do it.  Nice!  Seriously, where is my hidey-hole?

I went on to say that I thought that the age difference and the fact that I have a twelve year old son kind of freaked D out.  J agreed.  Which makes me think that they’ve had this conversation kind-of in depth.  Which freaks me out.  Here’s the other thing that freaks me out and is the big huge main reason that I better be right about these people not reading my blog.  I’m not interested in just sex.  Seriously, what are you supposed to do?  Have sex with your coach the one time and ruin your entire favorite hobby and your relationship with one of your favorite people?  I think not.  As stupid as a coach-student relationship would be, that is even dumber.  But how do you date your coach?  Well, you don’t.  That’s the answer to that.  I gotta say, it’s not my preferred answer.  Unfortunately, that’s just the way it is.  Like our Russian friend said a while back, “He is coach, you are student.  No hugging.  And no kissing either.” 

Incidentally, I told my ex-husband this story today, and he said, duh, he’s known forever that I’ve been crushing on D.  Does it get anymore appalling than this?  He also said that he gives us two weeks before we’re doing something.  Which I totally disagree about – I don’t think D will do one single thing about any of this and things will remain the same.  We’ll get teased relentlessly, but nothing will happen.  I know I’m right about that because we had a lesson on Friday morning and it was perhaps the most professionally either of us have ever behaved.  There was not a single mention of any of this stuff!  I mean, we both talked about how tired we were, and I said I wouldn’t be doing any spins thanks to my rather delicate condition, but we didn’t talk about any of the OTHER stuff.  I’m sure the other skaters ignored the big ol’ elephant in the room too!

By the way, and after this bit, I will finally be done with the longest post in the history of ever, I know it’s beyond silly to revert to initials at this point in the game when I have used my coach’s name in this blog before, but if he happens to be a self-googler (as much as I doubt that), I do not, under any circumstance whatsoever, want this entry to pop up.  I wouldn’t ever be able to come out of my hidey-hole.

I woke up to shit stew in the dog’s crate again.  *sigh*  Needless to say, after everything was cleaned up, we went to the vet.  He just has a bacterial bug, so he’s on an anti-diarrheal, an antibiotic, and he had a couple of shots to slow his gut down (in the words of the vet).  Since we got home, he hasn’t done much but sleep, so it’s pretty clear that he doesn’t feel good.  It’s kind of weird though, because yesterday he was full of energy and seemed fine.  I feel so bad for him!  I wish I had taken him in on Wednesday.  Yep, worst dog-mommy ever.

A couple of things were better today – there wasn’t as much poo in the crate and my cleaning method was significantly quicker.  One thing was much worse.  The dog had poo all over him.  As my dear munchkin would say, “The yellow lab turned into a chocolate lab.”  Gross.  It was even on his ears.  His ears!  How, Mr. Dog, how???  He’s all clean now, and he smells so good.  I love his shampoo.  It’s got oatmeal in it.  And baking soda.  Mmmmm.  It’s like cookies.  Sorry, I’m going to ruin the cookie story now – another bad thing is that the trash came yesterday, so the poo stuff that went into the garbage today is going to sit in there for a week.  Ick!

Anyway, I missed my skating lesson since I was at the vet.  That kind of sucks since it was going to be my last day in the old skates.  I really felt horrible about cancelling because my poor coach has borne such a burden from me this summer with all the freaking drama.  We’ll make up the time on Monday, so it’s not like he’s losing any money, but what if he had plans for the money from today for the weekend?  I know when I was twenty-three that if I didn’t get money I was expecting, it could screw my plans up.  Maybe he’s better at financial planning than I am.  He probably makes a lot more money than I did at that age too!  I asked him to please not fire me.  Seriously, coaches fire students!  They get sick of the bullshit and they fire their kids.  I fear that.

So what did I do today?  Well, I got all caught up on “Tori and Dean: Inn Love” (gak, I am sooooooo ashamed of myself!!!).  To make up for it, I’ve got the History Channel’s “The Universe” on.  That webpage sucks, so I’m not linking to it.  Not that I’m paying attention to the show since I’m blogging at the moment.  Hopefully I’m picking up something by osmosis.  I’ve kept an eye on the dog as well.  I haven’t put on makeup, god forbid.  I ate crap (Mike and Ikes).  No wonder I’m a big ol’ moo cow right now.  Oh, and I ordered two dance skirts.  I also have not worked out today.  It’s hard to go upstairs and get on a treadmill when you’re worried the dog will crap all over the place though!  I’m thinking about taking a nap now.  That’s pathetic.  I better do a long walk tomorrow to make up for all this!

So I woke up this morning and went downstairs to let the dog out of his crate (he sleeps in it, isn’t he good?  You may want to wait to answer that) and let him outside.  As soon as I opened my bedroom door, I knew something was very, very wrong.  Mmm-hmm, stench.  I got to the kitchen, and there was Magnus in his crate of poo.  Every surface, every toy, his bed, his blanket, and the dog himself was covered in liqui-poo.  He had an assplosion of biblical proportions.  Not only was all that other stuff covered, but the poo had spilled outside the crate and was on my kitchen floor.  I believe I’ve mentioned before how I feel about kitchen cleanliness – yeah, mine needs to be washed in kerosene now.

 Anyway, I got the dog outside and went about cleaning the crate.  A smart person would’ve said, “Hey, I ought to take this crate outside and go after it with a hose.”  Well, you know what?  I hadn’t had caffeine yet, so I thought, “Hey, I just have to get on my hands and knees with a trash bag, dog bath wipes, dog accident spray, and paper towels.”  I’m very sorry for all the trees I unnecessarily used up on dog poo today.  I feel really bad about that.  It had to be at least a zillion.  I am so dumb!  Yeah, so rather than using a hose for five minutes, I was on the floor for almost an hour and I single-handedly destroyed half a rain-forest.  I’m going to hell.

Meanwhile, the dog is launching himself at the back door which is one of those doors that’s like ninety percent glass.  I was pretty sure I was going to have a dead dog by the end of the morning.  KABLAM!!!  Sit and pant.  Back up.  Launch.  KABLAM!!!  It was pretty disconcerting.  Um, oh yeah, he was also barking and crying.  This was apparently just too much for me because I ended up in a heap on the floor with my paper towels and dog accident spray, trying to clean poo out of the tile grout, crying hysterically and hyperventillating.  Me, hysterical over poo.  I have a kid.  I have cleaned up some disgusting bodily fluids (freshly puked parmesan is a smell that ought to be reserved for people like, gosh, I can’t think of anyone rotten enough.  Oh, OJ Simpson.  Okay).  I have never, ever cried like a two year old over cleaning up gross stuff.  You just do it and get on with your day.  Nope, not today.  I just couldn’t deal with this first thing in the morning.  It was a lot of shit.  Really, a lot!

The crate was finally cleaned to my satisfaction (for now – I think this weekend it’s going outside for a good general bath), and it was on to the toys and bed and blanket.  Anything that could be washed has been through the washer five times on hot.  So put me down for hellacious enviromental behavior in the category of water-and-energy-wastage too.  Fuck!  I hate it when I have to be bad like that.  Magnus’s bed was a loss.  There was just no way to clean it.  He was about twenty pounds too heavy for it, but he’s a Lab and therefore thinks he weighs seven, so he was still using it.  He doesn’t like his big-boy bed so much.

Okay, so the reason he had so much poo was his tummy is still upset from being boarded.  He seems fine now – he has lots of energy and his appetite is fine, but holy crap, has he ever got the farts!  Ack.  Gaggers.  I just wish he would’ve cried or barked or something so I would’ve known he needed to go outside before the whole incident.  Actually, I’m assuming he didn’t because I’m a light sleeper, and I feel like I would’ve heard it.  We’ve never had this situation before though.  Maybe he just didn’t know what to do.  Poor puppy!  Eeewww, maybe he did cry and I didn’t hear it and I’m the worst dog-mommy ever.  Oh, I hope not!!!

In other news, I got the call that my new skates have arrived in town (I texted my coach with this “Oh my gosh guess what jamie called and my skates are here and my fitting is saturday and i’m all excited and squeeeee!”).  As you may ascertain, I’m quite thrilled about this.  Seriously, when Jamie called and told me, I about fell off my seat.  And I was driving (*lectures self for talking and driving* but self answers back with “I was at a stoplight!”), so falling off my seat was really impressive.  I didn’t expect them for at least another month.  I must have been first in line when the Harlick people got back from vacation.  My order went in the day before they left.  So yeah, I’m a spazz.  I’m a little nervous too though.  I’ve never had dance blades before or a dance heel lift, so my weight will be distributed differently.  I’ve been such a mess all summer though that, you know, what the hell?  Why not get all the messy ugly stuff out of the way now?  I just hope I don’t make too much of an ass out of myself. 

Oh, and I almost forgot – I have my first ballroom lesson on Tuesday, yay!  It’s at Arthur Murray, so I wonder if they’ll have those funny little feet diagrams.  I’m such a dork that I would love that.

Note to WordPress again:  Spellcheck is not working though it did for one minute sometime last week.  Plz halp!!!

It’s going to be 107 degrees here today (I knew we’d pay for the lovely wet weather we’ve had all summer eventually).  If I’m going to work out today, I need to do it soon, but I have a headache, so I’m hanging out on the internet instead.  What I’ve found so far is that the Runner’s World website is going to kill me because it’s so freaking slow.  I kind of want to throw my computer across the room right now.  I’m waiting for the shoe finder page to load.  See, I’ve had all these problems – I’ve sprained my right ankle twice, my Achilles tendon hurts, and my knee hurts (all on the right side).  I’m a little freak, so of course I’m an underpronater.  That just means that I hit the outside of my foot and don’t roll to the inside properly, so it’s hard on my knees and Achilles.  I guess that makes it hard on my ankles too, but the point is that it’s gotten to the point that I am no longer running.  I’m walking which makes me feel like a little old lady.  Unacceptable!  So I’m checking to see if I can find some shoes that’ll fix the problem.  My current shoes are Asics Gel Kayanos which are supposed to be awesome but are clearly not working for me.

Okay, so after eleventy billion minutes, my 26 pairs of shoes popped up, and one pair was for underpronators.  Nice.  So I will compare them to four other pairs that are for neutral foot people but which are highly rated.  Let’s see.  Okie dokie, it looks like I’d have to go with this one.  The neutral shoes just won’t work.  The nice thing here is that this shoe is $85 whereas the Gel Kayanos are $135.  Yay!  Now I’ll have to sneak in the running without telling my coach who has twice forbidden running.  He’s just paranoid about the knee and ankle issues.  I’m paranoid about fat.  Fat trumps bad knees, so I win!

This is a hello to the WordPress people even though I’m pretty sure they don’t read my drivel – your website is bugging me today too.  You know I’ve been having problems with the spellchecker for months now, and today I’m typing along, nothing shows up on the page, and then all of a sudden everything pops up.  It’s a little disconcerting, especially since I’m a horrible speller and who knows what I’m spelling when I can’t see it?  And no, I don’t think it’s my computer because the Runner’s World site is always slow (though it’s more annoying today than on some other days) so you can’t use that as proof that it’s me.  Plus this sometimes happens with your site.  Help help!

Here is what I need to do today – workout (walk, weights, and core), shower, go to Target, do laundry, vacuum dog hair (I don’t have carpet – I have a layer of dog hair instead, ick), and work with Magnus on sit and stay with lots of distractions which means take him to Petsmart and work with him in the treats aisle.  The fish aisle also works well because the tanks make a high-pitched sound that humans can’t hear but which drives the dogs bonkers.  I can’t find his leash right now though.  When I took him to the vet for boarding, I know they gave it back to me.  I just can’t figure out what I did with it.  Urgh!  He could use some new chew toys too.

Here’s what I want to do today: nothing.  At least until the headache goes away.  I’d like to go back to bed for a while, but I’m not so good at sleeping during the day.  Bummer!  If my headache went away, what I would like to do today is take a ballroom class.  The teacher at the rink sucks though.  That’s what I hear anyway.  Since I am currently partnerless, I don’t take ballroom.  My coach could take it with me, but since he’s also currently partnerless, he’s not taking anything he doesn’t have to.  He calls it a sabbatical.  I call it lazy butt (says the girl who’s sitting on the couch rather than working out).  Anyway, he says the ballroom teacher last year was much better.  He was Russian.  The one now is this older woman who treats everyone like they’re five years old.  Needless to say, when you peek in on the class, you see lots of eye-rolling and unhappy looking students.  I wonder if you have to have a partner for one of the ballroom schools or if they can hook you up with someone for the classes?  Ah, the answer is you don’t have to have a partner.  They just put you in private lessons!  Boo, expensive.  Maybe I’ll call later anyway.  This is something I really want to do.

Okay, that’s all for now.  I can’t deal with this website anymore today!

Eeekkk, I wish they’d put me out there now!  At practice tonight, I was playing third base and one of the guys smacked a ball right towards me, but still on the ground.  I reached down to catch it in my glove, but it rolled up it and hit me in the throat instead.  Ouch!  They were all, “Are you okay?  Did it hit you in the face???”, and I said, “I’m fine” about three octaves higher than normal and went on about my business.  One of the other girls got hit in the throat last season.  She said it sucked.

Anyway, they moved me to second for a little while until I said I didn’t think I was ready for it.  This was after the guy running towards second got past me when I was totally not paying attention to the game.  Our one guy in the outfield at the time was trying to throw the ball at me, but I think I was watching the guy run instead.  Maybe.  I might have been watching a plane fly overhead, you never know.  Very silly.  It doesn’t seem like as much happens at third, and I can throw, but I kept trying to throw the ball over the mountains a la Uncle Rico.  We’re all pretty bad though, except for one guy and one girl.  Well, maybe three guys and one girl.  We laughed a lot though.

I went to Austin this weekend for my sister’s graduation.  It was so much fun!  We went on the boat on Saturday, and I’m completely lobster-fied.  Holy crap, it hurts!  I had a hard time sleeping last night because of it.  We also went out Saturday night, but we went to 4th street rather than 6th.  Apparently, we are far too geriatric for 6th street.  Whatever!  Anyway, we saw a band called Sprung, and they were awesome.  I wish they’d come to Dallas, but I guess it’ll have to be an Austin thing that I do.  We also saw a band called Roman Holiday.  They were not quite so awesome, but they were funny.

When we got back to the hotel, we stopped by my room so I could change and grab the vodka.  My sister and I were cracking up about something when someone knocked on the door.  It was the on-duty manager telling us there had been a noise complaint.  Seriously.  Quiet as a mouse me had a noise complaint.  Well, Kim’s not so quiet.  We had been in the room for, I kid you not, two minutes.  That has to be a record.  So we went up to Kim and Jason’s room to play Guitar Hero (yes, I’m aware that we’re all in our thirties.  Geeky gamers), and then I finally went back to my room around 3:30.  There was clearly a party raging in my hall.  Did I call the manager?  Nooooo.  I just put a pillow over my head.  No worries!  Still, you have to wonder if that party was really the noise from earlier, and the manager accidentally picked my room because of all the laughing.  Maybe there was a lull in the other party.

Okay, I’m off to watch Big Brother and then it’s bedtime.  Gotta attempt to skate again tomorrow!

Skating is not going so well this summer.  I’ve been out of town too many times, injured too long (right ankle and knee), and just in general lackadaisical about the whole thing.  However, today my outside edge transitions were a little better.  On the left side anyway.  I have a tendency to torque myself around on everything.  It’s from having a dance background – dancers have to create momentum.  Ice dancers and skaters in general, on the other hand, just have to change their momentum.  My body has been trained for so long to create momentum and I’ve been having a really hard time with the concept of not doing so.  Frankly, I don’t understand the concept at all.  I don’t get how to not take my upper body with me everywhere I go.  I can’t think about it anymore today though – I will simply go crazy.  Poor Coach is about ready to beat me up over the whole thing.  I don’t know how many other ways he can explain it!

 Anyone watching “Flipping Out” on Bravo?  I love it.  I’m pretty OCD myself, but I’ll tell you, whenever I find myself mentally agreeing with one of Jeff’s psycho moments, I’m like, hold on there!  He’s nuts.  I work too hard fighting OCD behaviors to start agreeing with them.  Of course, I can really understand wanting everything to be just so.  It’s just you can’t expect everyone else in life to get it or care that much.  Because does it really matter if all the seams on the towels face inwards?  Gosh, I sure thought so until I had a munchkin.  Then I realized I didn’t have time to care about towel seams.  Kitchen cleanliness I had time for.  Towels, not so much.  That doesn’t mean I’m not annoyed when I pull an inside out towels from the pile though.

But I digress.  We’re talking about skating today.  Last night, when I was at my softball team meeting (I know that sounds nothing like skating, but it’s a team of skaters called The Zambonis), I realized why I have such a problem being motivated with my skating.  I don’t have anyone to compete with.  There aren’t any other adults doing ice dancing that skate when I do.  There’s one that skates at like five am, but no thank you very much – plus she’s way ahead of me.  Anyway, when I played hockey, if we were told to do Herbies (skate from the goal line to the near blue line and back, then to the center line and back, then to the far blue line and back, then to the other goal line and back), I could race people.  It was extremely motivating.  In dance, there were a ton of people to compete with whether it was for parts or just to be told “good job” on a certain exercise or whatever.  At the rink, I’ve realistically got nobody but myself.  And myself is a lazy butt.  Anyway, I figured this all out when I was told that we’d be seeing which girls could throw the most accurately to see which ones of us were going to play bases and which were going to the outfield.  I thought, “Oh, it is ON bitches!”  I will not find myself stuck picking clovers in the outfield.  It was nice since it’s been awhile since I’ve felt that competitive fire.  Then we were talking about batting.  I’ve decided I’m going to have a better average than my coach (not softball coach, skating coach.  See how much more possible that is now?).  I told him as much, oops, so I suppose that’s on now too.  Me and my big mouth.  I need to find a way to compete with myself.  Maybe that’s what that whole goal-setting thing is about.