Holiday Spirit Alive & Well At The Post Office

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This morning I had a choice: Wait around the house an extra 40 minutes until my local post office opened, or go ahead with my plans to drive into Greensboro and hit the post office in a busy commercial shopping center before I set up camp at my favorite Panera. God help me, I chose Option B.

My first goof was thinking the Post Office opened at 8:30. Nope, its 9 AM. My second goof was arriving at the Post Office at ten till 9, instead of 3 AM, as that's apparently what time people started showing up, based on the already-formed line that greeted me when I arrived. 

Too bad for me. I had a package that HAD to go out today. I took a deep breath, opened the door, and marched to my place at the back of the line...

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Is P90X Right For Me?

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I don't know if I've ever shard my P90X obsession with the group. It all started this past summer when I saw an infomercial of people drenched in sweat doing pull-ups, push-ups, and ab work so hard it had them crying out for their mama's. It didn't hurt that all of the people offering testimonials were totally ripped. And it also didn't hurt that at the time I was watching the infomercial and contemplating ordering the DVD's, I was in the best shape of my life as I trained for Chicago. The idea of pushing the envelope even further was appealing. 

I didn't order the program though, because I didn't have the time to add any new elements to my workout. I was on a tightly regimented training schedule to get me my Boston qualifying time. Now, however, I may actually have time to devote to a program like this.

The problem is I've lost some (a lot) of my mojo. I'm still running and biking but I've cut way back from summer training. And frankly, I've developed a case of fear and laziness. This program looks hard. It looks like it will hurt. Which--I have to remind myself--is what appealed to me in the first place.

My friend Tamara loaned me her P90X DVD's this week so I can try a couple workouts and see if they're anything I think I might even remotely be able to do on my own. I picked the workouts up from her yesterday and am staring at them right now, as they sit on the corner of my desk. I'm literally afraid to slide one into the DVD.  I just think I'm not going to be able to hang with even half of the stuff asked of me. I'm reminding myself the point of these DVDs are to GET strong, not to start strong. 

So once I get my courage up, I should have a few interesting, "OMG, I can't move, call 911" posts to share with all of you. 

Wish me luck.  

Why Am I Up This Late??

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It's 12:41 AM on Sunday night Monday morning and the house is quiet as I sit at my desk and type this. Blair is asleep in our bedroom and the cats are passed out under the Christmas tree--probably dreaming of catnip stuffed elves for Christmas.

I'm trying to remember the last time I made it up past midnight. As most of you know, I'm a "in bed and lights out by 10 PM girl." This week, however, life has been turned upside down.

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Why Is This Chair Shedding?

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This summer I spent several weeks investigating office chairs for my newly renovated writing room. I sat, spun, leaned back, bounced on, curled up in, and glided across the floor in more "pleather" chairs than I care to admit before finally settling on a winner. You'd think the chair would reward me with a least a year of two or life, but no. Take a look at what the shedding wonder looks like today:

The damage is even worse when viewed up close:

All around the house I'm finding bits of black chair covering strewn here and there. I assume it's adhering itself to my backside and hitching a ride to, say, the kitchen before deciding that this is its final destination. 

The chair itself is still fairly comfortable, so I'm hesitant to get rid of it. Much as I try to avoid the thought, I suspect there is a roll of black duct tape in my future.

Ho-ho-ho.

Dena