Stretching Like an Athlete

Athletics were never my thing. As a card carrying klutz, I’ve shied away from anything requiring physical prowess for most of my life. Oh, there was a brief period during which I played racquetball, but even then I managed to hit myself in the face with the racquet on more than one occasion. I tried golf, but was soon spending considerably more on chiropractic treatment than on greens fees.

As a result, I kind of gave up on doing any activity that was physically demanding. I have tons of other excuses: a disdain for gyms, a dislike of workout classes, an allergic reaction to sweat….You get the picture.

Now, at 61, my body is telling me I should have done something to keep myself fit. My hips hurt, my back aches, and my arms are flabby wonders that wag even when I try to get them to play dead. I feel like a bag of lumpy gravy.

I see a chiropractor, Dr. Verrier, on a regular basis. He’s helped me a great deal. Before I began regular treatments with him I couldn’t walk without significant pain. He’s worked wonders, but I still had some issues with my hips that keep me awake at night.

Then Studly Doright suggested I also see someone at a Tallahassee business called Stretching Your Life. One of his golf buddies recommended the business and Studly wanted me to check it out.

Stretching Your Life is owned by kinesiologists who teach their clients to stretch like athletes. They’ll even spend an entire hour stretching you! I’ve had two sessions of intense stretching and am amazed at what I’ve missed out on all these non-athletic years. I still have a long way to go, but my kinesiologist, Jen, is upbeat about getting me to a healthier place in my life.

Here’s a link to Stretching Your Life. Their website alone has a great deal of helpful information along with exercises to do at home. (I receive no compensation for sharing this information, by the way, but I wanted to spread the word.)

I’ll give updates on my progress with the stretching. Hopefully I can work out some of these kinks that have begun to feel like the norm. I don’t mind being 61, but I do mind feeling like I’m 91.

Peace, people.

So Much Food; So Little Time

My waistline is more a suggestion now, instead of a well-defined feature of my anatomy. Because the pecan

Pie I made for Christmas dinner and the baklava my daughter sent packed in a box of gifts,

Were deemed too tasty to ignore in spite of the calories they boast in abundance. Do I feel a New Year’s

Resolution in the making? Elastic waist pants in my future? A regimen of calisthenics in development?

Ask me in a week or so. There are still gourmet marshmallows wrapped in pretty paper on my kitchen counter.

Calories be damned.

Oldie #1: A Thigh Slapping Good Time

Shehanne Moore encouraged me to republish some of my older stuff on WordPress. Well, it doesn’t get much older than this piece. I give you my second blog post on WP.

Goodwill Hunting Stuff

I undecorated the house on Saturday, organizing and discarding as I worked, so this afternoon I took a large box of unnecessary Christmas decorations to one of our Tallahassee Goodwill locations. 

Of course I couldn’t drop off my donation without first looking around for possible treasures. While I didn’t purchase anything I found a few items that tickled my fancy. 

Little Buddha had a fish…


Take a walk on the WILD side.

Seriously, I almost bought this exercise shaker thing. I remember when they were quite the fad.

And how about this lovely fairy dancing with a bunny? I might have nightmares.  

I love boxes, and this one seems to have some specific purpose.


The question is, what is that purpose?

There were several interesting cigar boxes. I remember using my Grandaddy’s cigar boxes for school supply holders before the surgeon general had his say. 


Finally, this young lady seems to have lost whatever it was she carried. I almost bought her, she looked so sad.   

I’ve been ruminating on thrift stores these past few days. What are your thoughts on thrift shopping? I have friends who wouldn’t set foot in one and other friends who swear by them. More later, I think, as I sort through my feelings.

Peace, people!

Fitbit Follies

Today I

–went to the Tallahassee Mall and made myself dizzy repeatedly walking a tight loop so I could get in 10 flights of stairs before my movie started.

–walked an extra circuit around Lake Ella in downtown Tallahassee so I could have a beer before bedtime.

–left my iPhone in the bedroom knowing that I’d have to make an extra trip back there to retrieve it, thus topping the 10,000 step mark.

–calculated the number of tortilla chips I could eat with my beer without going into the red zone on my Fitbit. (2)

–realized that I’ve lost 6 pounds. šŸ˜

I kind of love my Fitbit.

Peace, people!

Fitbit FanaticismĀ 

I’ve done a lot of strange things in my life, but since strapping on a Fitbit I have to admit my list has grown much longer.

The first thing I do each morning is look at the number of steps I’ve taken in the night. With a goal of 10,000 steps every one counts. I know exactly now how many steps I take going to and from the toilet with a stop off at the sink on the way back (25).

Then I check the quality of my sleep. My Fitbit indicates how many times I was awake during the night and how many minutes I spent in a restless state. Finally I have evidence proving that I don’t sleep. Studly Doright has to believe me now!

I also have become efficiently inefficient. Take laundry for example. In the days B.F. (Before Fitbit) I would carry arm loads of folded laundry from the chaise lounge in the den, dropping off various items in their appropriate places. 

After Fitbit (A.F.) I make a separate trip for each grouping of items. Studly’s boxers get one trip, his socks another, and so on. I do the same with clothing I’ve hung to dry in the laundry room, sometimes making a dozen separate trips. 

You don’t even want to know my new grocery shopping technique. Suffice it to say that by the time I’ve completed purchasing basics like milk, bread, and beer (yes, beer is a basic) I’ve crisscrossed the nearest Publix a dozen times. And parking has become a game to see just how far from the store I can park. 

Since the Fitbit also counts the number of flights of stairs I’ve climbed I’ve found myself walking in strange patterns at both of our malls. I never thought I’d say it, but I’ve become a mall walker. 

I can get all of the flights climbed in my own neighborhood just by walking up my side of the loop three and a third times, but until fall comes along it’s just too darned hot and humid out there. I did buy a small container of pepper spray so that some day in the future I’ll be brave enough to walk the entire loop again.

Have any of these machinations paid off? I don’t know yet, but if they allow me one beer in the evening, they’re worth it.

Peace, people!


Doggone Dog

Dogs are among my favorite people, but a couple of evenings ago as I was taking my evening walk an unknown dog made a charge at me.

Doright Manor sits at the bottom of a loop and many evenings when Studly and I have been out and about in the car I’ll have him drop me off at the top of our loop so I can get a walk in before darkness sets in. On the occasion of the charging dog, the weather was so nice that I decided to walk the entire loop, bypassing the manor and trekking up the backside.

It’s a nice walk and great exercise as the loop has a long steady change in elevation. About halfway up the back side of the loop I caught a flash of brown out of the corner of my eye. I knew there was a dog waiting to ambush me, if not to attack, just to assert its authority over its territory.

I continued walking, grateful that I’d seen the dog and wouldn’t be taken by surprise. Then he rushed me, a large apparently angry dog barking a deep growly baritone that caused me to stop dead in my tracks. I commanded him to stop, and he did, while continuing to bark.

The driveway he came running out of belongs to a home that’s set way back on its property and there is no house directly across from it. I raised my voice in a “hello!” hoping the dog’s owner would come and corral him.

No response. I had my phone and dialed Studly. No response. I tried again. Nothing, and I figured he was in the shower. All this time the dog continued to bark. I took a tentative step forward and he came closer and growled more loudly. I knew better than to turn my back, so I began walking slowly backwards. He took another step towards me. Again I sternly commanded him to stop and he did. Finally I heard a female voice as his owner came out to the road. The dog was still barking furiously.

“He won’t hurt you,” she said, sounding miffed.

“I don’t care!” I responded. “I don’t know your dog, and he scares me.”

It took her several minutes to get the dog back up to the house. He kept turning back to bark at me and I’m sure my fear was encouraging that behavior. 

She never apologized, just herded the dog back to her home. I continued my walk and at the top of the loop Studly returned my call. He offered to come get me, but the crisis was over by then. 

Now I’m reluctant to walk my loop. I have a walking stick that would provide some defense, (I didn’t have it that evening) but I’m really nervous. Not long ago a Texas friend was attacked by two large dogs while on a walk, and is still dealing with a nasty bite from that incident.

No punch line in this post. I hate being afraid. 

Peace, people. 


My New Fitbit

Apropos of nothing last night my husband, Studly Doright, suggested I purchase a Fitbit. I pretended I had no idea what he was talking about.

Me: What’s that?

Studly: You know, it tracks your steps.

Me: Oh, it’s a pedometer?

Studly: Well, kind of, but it talks to your cell phone and tells you how many calories you’ve burned.

Me: Are you saying I’m fat?

Studly: Well, no, but you’re always talking about losing weight and, well….”

Me: (pouting dramatically) You’ve really caught me off guard. I guess, if you want me to buy a tool to keep me from getting fatter I’ll do it to make you happy. 

Studly: You’re such a knothead.

Me: Yep. Let’s find me a Fitbit.

I researched, a.k.a. surveyed my Facebook friends who by a large majority recommended I buy the Fitbit Charge. I went ahead and got the HR model that also tracks heart rate. My mild technology anxiety fluttered in the back of mind when I contemplated the barriers I might have to deal with in order to get the device synced to my phone, but it was a breeze. 

I’d go walking, but at 7 p.m. it’s still 95Ā° degrees F in my part of the world and super humid. If I can hold out for another hour it’ll drop to 90Ā°, and I might venture out. So far I’ve journeyed to and from the bathroom and clocked 173 steps. I have a feeling I won’t be reaching the pre-set goal of 10,000 steps on my first day of Fitbit ownership.

Peace, people!

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