Crossfit and Bibles

The alarm rang this morning at 4:15am. I hate that blasted thing. I hate alarms and all that they stand for. I want an alarm that makes me coffee and kisses me softly on the cheek while laying a kitten on my lap. Is that too much to ask for?

 

By 6:30am this morning, I had dropped Biceps off, ran 2 miles, went to Crossfit and started my short drive home on the deserted streets. (Save for the few headed towards the donut shop. Naughty, naughty.)

I have been feeling a bit on the downer side lately-which is totally not me. I’m the one that bounces into Crossfit at 5:30am humming a tune and annoying the other participants, I’m sure. Today, I just slipped in the back and got to work, not making eye contact.

And while on round 3 of my last movement of 30 friggin’ box jumps, and as my trainer was yelling at me, I started thinking. When was the last time I even talked to God about how I was feeling? Sure, I’ve been reading His Word, but have I been humble enough to admit to myself, let alone HIM, that I was bummed out and really didn’t know why? It sounded so….girly.

And girly doesn’t come naturally for me. Obviously. (*ps-this is a fake picture. There was some concern the last time I posted this.)

Weird, yes. But girly? Not so much.

So, I came home, brewed some coffee, grabbed my Bible and snuggled up to my dewey garden-which is where I feel the closest to God. And I told Him how I felt and asked Him to give me clarity.

Somewhere between I Peter 1:6 and 7, I realized that these trials are temporary. And I have a hope with Him. And I should quit whining, because really, who wants to see someone crying at Crossfit?

No one, that’s who.

So, just in case you are going through something right now, or you may be a little or a lot bummed out, here’s the scripture that pulled me out of the depths of despair.

“In all this you greatly rejoice, though now for a little while you may have had to suffer grief in all kinds of trials. These have come so that the proven genuineness of your faith-of greater worth than gold, which perishes even though refined by fire-may result in praise, glory and honor when Jesus Christ is revealed.” I Peter 1:6 & 7

Top Ten Reasons to be a Dad

I am not a dad, but I do have one. And in the 34 years of knowing my Dad, I’ve learned why he chose to be a Dad-along with a few other things, like:

Duct tape fixes everything, even flip flops.

But, here are the top ten reasons that I think my Dad became a dad.

1. You can pretty much wear anything, if you’re a dad. You might even hear, “Oh, that’s just my dad.”

2. Mustaches look sleazy on most guys, but if you have a wedding ring and your toting around 4 kids, you can get by with it.

3. You have the right to embarrass your kids-because, after all-you can punish them if they make fun of you.

4. You finally get to say, “Don’t make me turn this car around!”.

5. When you become a dad, you automatically know how to carve a turkey, change the oil, fix a garbage disposer, change a diaper and make peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. Or not.

6. You always get to say the prayer at the dinner table, making it as long-winded as you want.

7. If you are awesome-like my Dad is-your kids will grow up to think you are the most amazing father in the world. And they will tell you often. And visit you. And call you. And hug you.

8. But, even if you are awesome-you will also hear a lot of stupidity out of your children as they grow up. Because, let’s face it. Kids are stupid. But, since you’re awesome, you remain calm, pray for sanity and spank on.

9. You get to say, “Because I said so”, and “Because your mother said so.” You prefer the first, but will use the latter if need be.

10. You get presents on father’s day, including-but not limited to: licorice, updated clothing items, bar-b-que gift certificates, hand-painted art projects, perhaps a reenactment of your life put on in a dramatic form complete with costumes, and socks.

Who wouldn’t want to be a dad? Happy Father’s Day, Dad. I LOVE YOU!

Big Girl Panties

Today, I had to put on my big girl panties.

(photo credit undetermined)
I was thrust from a comfortable, year-long situation doing Crossfit at the local YWCA into a brand new atmosphere full of sweaty people at a hipster gym downtown.

At 5:30 am-which is my peak performance time.

And I was t-e-r-r-i-b-l-e.

(photo credit-13stripescrossfit.com)
I am not out of shape, but I definitely don’t look like this Crossfitting/Beer Delivery girl. And, I’m unsure if I could hoist a keg on my shoulder and still look this cute doing it. And, once it was up there-how am I supposed to read a map for delivery purposes? It seems rather inefficient-I mean, we do have dolly’s for a reason….

(photo credit-beastskills.com)
I could not wrap my mind around doing pull-ups this way. I’ve always done the strict army pull-up and had no idea what my legs were doing as they were flinging around kicking people. I felt like a moron.

And, I’m going back for the noon class. Hey-why not? People already know I’m a moron. I might as well really reinforce that stereotype.

The only problem I have is trying to get those big girl panties tucked into my workout shorts. It’s really rather uncomfortable.

Open House Sunday

As a realtor, I’ve noticed that I don’t necessarily have days off. That’s quite alright with me-because while others are stuck in an office from 8-5-I’m driving all over kingdom come, sticking signs in yards, and drinking iced coffee.

I think it’s a fair trade.

And, since this guy has an odd schedule as a firefighter, one day just blends into another. Weekends don’t really happen or matter in our household. A Monday is a Saturday is a Wednesday.

The one thing breaking up my weeks are open houses. And today, I’m hosting an open house for one of my listings.

It’s often a weird feeling to be in someone else’s home, showing others around as if you own the place. It gives a girl time to think. And these are a few of my thoughts while I was hosting today’s open house:

1. Did I bring my pepper spray?
2. If I have to use my pepper spray, do I apologize first or just get crazy on the guilty party?

3. If aforementioned pepper spray is deployed, injuring the guilty party, then what? Leave them there and the unlocked house open? Kick the guilty party (literally) out of the house? Scream like Xena, warrior princess, convincing the guilty party that I am indeed crazy and leaving is their best option before something else happens?
4. Why did I drink an iced coffee and not eat lunch-therefore making me jittery and concerned about false pepper spray deployment?
5. If I accidentally employ pepper spray on myself-due to “jitteryness”-do I tell anyone about it?

6. After all my hard work, do I get a treat?

(I think we all know the answer to that question.)

7. Is it unacceptable to bring your cat to an open house for companionship?
8. And why is it unacceptable to bring a cat to an open house for companionship?
9. Could I possibly teach a cat how to deploy pepper spray properly, in order for him to be considered my bodyguard and thus verifying him entry into my open houses?

#9 seems logical, but it could take some time. I’d better get to work.

Have a great Sunday!