Dog Sitting

This weekend I dog sat for my friends Sarah and Mike. Good times. Sarah and Mike are the ones that I believe H posted about from a wedding. Not sure. Anyway, let's just say, drunkenness occurred with H and I. Open. Bar. Need I say more?!?

Anyway, they were using up a wedding gift from our office building and so they had asked if I could dog sit. And I love their dog. LOVE HIM. The only things I don't really enjoy (but find funny) about Max, a Boston Terrier, who I refer to as Max E. Pad (and Mike absolutely hates it) are as follows:

1) He likes to sleep between my legs. Either on top of the covers or underneath the covers. And even if I move him, he just goes back.

2) I could be sleeping on my back and he'll still move between my legs so I have to move my leg all awkwardly and try to sleep.

3) He likes to go up and sniff my ear while I sleep and then he'll move the covers up and bury under the covers to get there. Much like a mole or some other animal that likes to dig.

4) He is constantly licking stuff. Like the sheets, his paws, the couch. Which would make the sleeping between my legs super awkward if he had his head facing my you know what, but thank goodness he sleeps the other way.

5) He won't let me make the bed. He just keeps jumping up on the bed. He thinks it's a game.

I adore Max though. I wish I could have taken him to the dog park or something though. But walking, well. . . still a little slow. . .

On a complete and utter side note, the first time Dean and I spent the night together (in the beginning of our strictly platonic friendship) was when I was dog sitting. Max kept freaking me out that first time I dog sat by jumping up and running to the door barking. Dean and I had only really known each other for like a month, but he volunteered to stay the night with me since I was telling everyone how it was freaking me out. Perhaps I should have let him stay on the couch that night. However, if he had never spent the night, I probably wouldn't have gotten to know him as well as I do. He had diarrhea of the mouth that first morning. Seriously, just kept talking. And I highly doubt my bed head made him nervous. . . :)

She Said What?!?

I had originally written this in an email to my friends because it really disturbed me. I've decided to now make a post about it.

I watch the Biggest Loser sometimes and am really impressed by the people losing all the weight. However, Jillian Michaels scares me. She does. And now I realize, she is actually a very unhealthy person at heart. She might also have had an eating disorder at one time based on what she said in the article. Soo not good. Jillian, they have weight ranges for a reason!!! I was actually reading about her new workout tape and was actually considering buying it but not if she's wanting me to really starve myself!!!

Here is the excerpt from the article that made me re question her judgement:

Your body wants you to be a little flabby: “Taking off these last problem pounds requires discipline. You’re fighting you’re body’s natural chemistry,” she says. Your body wants to keep on an extra 10–15 pounds in case of famine, a long winter or other disasters that have plagued humans throughout history. Losing the last 10 pounds isn’t always about getting healthy in the same way losing 30 or 40 is. Sometimes, it’s about vanity, and for vanity, you have to make sacrifices. “Your body doesn’t want to shed that weight just because you are a narcissist and want to wear size two jeans,” she says. “You have to trick your body into thinking it’s a safe weight,” and that means plowing through the program without giving your body the chance to rebound back to its old weight.

She's 5'2". I always pictured her taller. But she's short. It just really disturbs me. And in all honesty, the weight doesn't necessarily matter as much as body fat percentage and whatnot in terms of being healthy. I teach a Pilates class, and the size 0 girl who is maybe 100lbs and two inches shorter than me, isn't as athletic as me. And isn't able to do the things that I can athletically. Well she can probably do more things than me now seeing as I'm an ankle short at the moment. . .

I'm not saying by any means I'm healthy and at a healthy BMI, but still. She's probably at a low BMI I would guess. "Healthy" not sure that's a great term. I'm not sure the term "vanity" should even be involved in weight loss. You should lose weight for the right reasons. Like you need to. Not because you want to so you can be deathly skinny. I'm just really sad to see a supposed health professional say that. It saddens me. . .

Stepping off my soap box now. . .

Crutches. . . Be gone!!

I have given up using the crutches today. Mainly because well. . . My triceps hurt from yesterday. Is that sad or what?!? I work them out in Pilates and my regular workout routine all the time but I guess not enough. Or I could be using my crutches entirely wrong and putting too much weight on my arms. I don't know.

Now I just walk at a snail's pace. The bad part: I'm a speed walker. All the time. I get told to slow down quite a bit. When I was in Chicago with my friend Kaci a couple of weekends ago, we were walking to the train and I said, "Am I walking super fast?" and she said "Yes, you're like running." I didn't mean to be either. Oh well!! I wish I could video tape how slow I have to walk. It's quite comical.

Oh and my nephew is wearing the shirt, tie, and belt I got him for his birthday AGAIN. He wore it for Easter and then wanted to wear it again yesterday but my sister said he couldn't because she had to wash it. He was just as happy to wear the belt. Then she said he wanted to wear it again today, so she let him. He's just tooo cute!!

****Okay apparently Dean's not the only one who forgets that I can't walk. My friend Sarah after she brought me lunch today (because I forgot mine and can't really walk to go get some) asked a couple hours later if I would want to go for a walk tonight after work. I said that I would love to as long as she doesn't mind walking slow. Then she said "Oooh yeah. . .I forgot about that!" haha!!

Helpful Hints. . .

Need to find out if you have a papercut?

Just rub anti-bacterial stuff on your hands. The alcohol in it will find the cuts in no time!!

Coordinated. . . I am not. . .

I hope that wasn't the title to H's post. .. I would feel bad for stealing a title. . .maybe. . . ;)

Anyway. . . I teach Pilates classes. To be specific: I teach Bosu, Jump Board, and the Reformer. I do not teach other forms of Pilates. Last Wednesday, I was teaching a Bosu class and we were about 40 minutes into the class and were doing what I call suicides-running going up and down on the ball. Well instead of being a normal person and using my foot to land, I decided to step down on my ankle. Not a good move. AT ALL. I severely sprained my ankle. And I mean SEVERE.

I'm used to injury. I used to sprain my ankle a lot in junior high. I broke my nose in high school. I sprained my ankle in college. I broke my pinky toe two years ago in April helping a waitress with the door to the patio. I know injury. However, this has been painful. And it has even caused me to think that X-rays would have been a good idea because I might have broken something. However, I can still balance on my ankle without excruciating pain or pain in my nerves, so I know I'm just over worrying.

Today I also realized that crutches suck. They do. If you don't believe, walk on them for a few days. That will teach you to think that crutches are cool. H suggested I get a wheelchair. I'm starting to agree. I would rather walk like a snail than use my crutches anymore. I did though get to use one of those scooter carts at Super WalMart while grocery shopping with my parents. They wanted to go to Sam's Club but since their daughter couldn't walk and Sam's doesn't have motorized carts, they opted for the SWM. The SWM was also closer. So win-win for them. Oh how I wish middle IL had Super Targets. Oh well. I was by far the skinniest and youngest person on the scooter.

Stupid, stupid ankle. The best part of it all is on the day I hurt myself, my mom apparently stepped on our Yorkie and my parents rushed him to the vet because Butch was having problems with one of his legs. It turns out Yorkie's have a tendency to easily dislocate their legs. And that's what happened. When I called my dad to tell him that he definitely needs to get me crutches when I come home because I can't really walk, he tells me that Butch had such a hard time that morning walking as well and barely made it from the bedroom to the family room in front of the heater. Yeah. Poor Butch. I wanted to remind him how he could have easily picked Butch up and carried him but I refrained.

Another bad thing about my ankle is that I could not chase my nephew this weekend. He likes to be chased and we do airplane. When I was showing him what foot was hurt he said "Please let A's foot go back to how it was and be all better. Amen." He did it without being prompted. I looked at my sister and she said "yes, he's quite the prayer!" I then just squeezed him. On Saturday night, he sort of forgot about the injury and wanted me to do airplane. Amazingly enough, I gave it a shot with one foot. I could only do it 4 times though. It's hard on one foot!!!!

Maybe some cute guy will come and wait on me at home. I'd ask Dean but the three times I've talked to him since Wednesday and I mention something about my foot like "Crutches suck" or "driving is kind of difficult" he says "Why? Ohhh that's right. . . your ankle." So I'm thinking, he's not going to remember to come and wait on me. . .

The "talk" Part 2

Flash forward to about three days later and I'm out with my friend Jeff.

Me: I can't believe I'm here with you watching a stupid Wisconsin game.

Jeff: Maybe you should quit knocking Wisconsin's awesomeness. By the way, what's going on with you and Dean?

Me: I then basically delve into the entire prior Part 1.

Jeff: Wait. He asked you?? And you said nothing???

Me: Yep. Pretty much.

Jeff: Not sure if you're aware but if a guy brings up the "talk" it pretty much means that he's wanting it to be more than just friends. Plus the guy has the greatest will power known to man. He sleeps in your bed every weekend. He wants to sleep in your bed every weekend. And I'm pretty sure you like him, so how on earth could you NOT say something?

Me: I don't know. I just don't know.

Jeff: You're retarded. You NEED to say something. You HAVE to say something. Plus guys and girls can't be just friends. I mean seriously. It's not possible.

Me: It's possible. I have a ton of guy friends. It's possible.

Jeff: All I'm saying is that we're friends. But I would have sex with you in a heart beat. That's all I'm saying.

Then it pretty much went downhill from there. . . haha!! And then I think every other guy friend I talked to said that I was a complete and utter idiot. I heard that a lot in the subsequent days. That I was an idiot. I ruined things. . . blah, blah, blah. . .

Then finally on Wed the 13th a week later I get the courage to say something to him. Well. . . sort of. He had soccer and then after his soccer game I asked if he wanted to go out for a drink afterwards. He was like sure. And one of the things he asks first when we sit down and order our drinks was "So, have you talked to that other guy?" No. No I haven't and No I'm not planning to.

Anyway, we sit at the bar for like two hours and I don't get the courage to say anything until we are outside going to our cars. Why? Because that's how I roll.

Anyway, picture me with two beers, no supper, and nervous as heck. Pretty much you get me with diarrhea of the mouth and constantly babbling.

Long story short: I think throughout the whole conversation I say "I don't want anything to ruin our friendship." And I finally get out "I would date you if you asked me." To which he says "I stayed here when I lost my job because of you."

And then we go back to being weird friends.



--This is obviously isn't how I wanted to finish this. . . but I'll have more of a rant later when I am up to it.

The "talk" Part 1

Of all the times I should have had an answer. Or at least a complete thought. Or have not just been so aloof. But no, the way I work is that I am completely and utterly hopeless.


Dean brought up the "talk". And for some reason I wasn't ready for it. I know people kept telling me you need to bring it up. YOU need to say something. It was always me bringing it up and saying something to him. ME. I had to be the one to do it. I was going to so many times too but no time seemed like a good time. Something always was happening. I'd get bad news. He'd get bad news. He'd pass out and be asleep. I'd pass out. But alas, on a Wednesday night at approximately 1am, he brings up the "talk".


Let me paint the picture: I found out bad news about Josie that day. He was going to come over and hang out before his late soccer games and eat. Well. . . he got a phone interview and then had to run an errand. His car died and then I had to go and jump it. By jump it, I really just brought my car so he could do the whole start it back up thing. So by then, it was better that we just went straight to the game. The games got over around 11 and he still wanted to hang out if I did. And of course I did, he's comforting. So he comes over and since my roommate was there, we went and watched TV in my room and chatted.



So keep in mind, it's late. I'm tired. And all I want him to do is stay and I don't care that it's a school night. He keeps saying how he needs to leave probably, and I keep saying he can stay. I even go and get ready for bed and under the covers to prove my point that he can stay. And then it's quiet for sometime and I look over and his eyes are closed.



Me: Just stay. Go Shower and stay.

Him: Fine.



I close my eyes and almost drift off to sleep.



Him: (Loud sigh) What's going on here?

Me: Huh?!? (I was half-asleep!)

Him: I mean, what's going on with us?

Me: Huh?!? (Not sure if you notice a pattern with me. . .)

Him: I mean, everyone asks what's going on with us and I say we're friends because we are friends but are we really friends?

Me: We're awkward friends.

Him: We're not awkward.

Me: We're not normal!

Him: Okay, we're not normal. I know other guys are interested in you and I would feel bad if you're not going out with them because of me. And I would hate to think that they're not asking you out because of me. And I guess the same can be said about me. I would feel bad if I was hurting you or something if I went out with another girl.

Me: Ummm. . . I do go out on dates. . . And yes, when they find out about you I do get "I didn't realize you were dating someone else." And then it pretty much ends there.

Him: Oh. (Long pause) So we're friends??

Me: Yeah of course we're friends.

Him: Do you still want me to stay?

Me: Yeah. . .

Him: Okay, I'll go shower now then.

I do realize this is not good. . . I missed my opportunity right then and there. I let my moment pass me by so to speak. Like in My Best Friend's Wedding when Julia Roberts and Dermot Mulroney are on the boat and he sings to her. That's me. I'm going to be chasing down his soon to be fiancee after I had just tried to kiss him. I am my own bad romance comedy. (And by bad I mean it doesn't end the way we want it to.)