Archive for October, 2009

I’m Not Too Old For Rollercoasters

I was going to tell you the story about my interview on Friday, and how before the interview I was going to hit the gym, except I went outside and my car battery was DEAD and I’m not even kidding. So I called HP to come home from work and jump start my car, and then drive to the auto parts store to buy a new battery and then went and aced my interview.

I guess I did tell you, what do ya know?

And then I got home from acing my interview and had to meet with the property management company because all residents received a notice that “it has come to our attention that some residents are in violation of our pet policy” and then proceeded to list all of the restricted breeds including Rottweilers, natch, and that even MIXES that include those RESTRICTED, AGGRESSIVE breeds must be removed.

Do I even need to tell you about the stress I was feeling? For reals, yo, I almost threw up before we left. And as we were walking out the door HP looked at me and said YOU CANNOT BE CRYING YET. WE’RE NOT LEAVING UNTIL YOU PULL YOURSELF TOGETHER. So I took a minute and went down and I’m not going to incriminate myself by telling you how we’re going to skirt this issue. Let’s just say, we’ll be flying under the radar and walking the dogs mostly when it’s dark. Eesh.

I really need this job so that I can start banking some savings in case we have to pick up and move unexpectedly KNOCK ON WOOD.

Anyway, today we went to King’s Dominion and road every roller coaster in the park (except for the one that was closed.) I was the wuss of the group because even though I love roller coasters, I don’t love the front row. The very, very front row where HP and our two friends wanted to sit. So HP and Sandy took turns having to sit with me in the second row. Whatevs.

And now we’re going to sit back, watch the game, eat pizza and drink beer. Hey, I might be on this health kick where 80% of my meals consist of greens but, you know, it’s Halloween.



Hair Drama

I'm at that stage of needing a haircut where all I can think about is how I need a haircut. Like, obsessing about my hair in such a deluded fashion that I imagine people on the Metro thinking to themselves "wow that girl's hair is really bad, she needs a haircut." This is both narcissistic and absurd. There are homeless people on the metro! I'm a regular fashion model for crying out loud!*
Still, I want a haircut and I'm going to do something I haven't done in two decades: cut more than an inch off. I know, I am so lame and insecure and I use my hair as some kind of security blanket to hide behind, which is funny because my hair isn't really all that great. It's ok, and I've had my share of good hair days but for reals, yo, it's nothing worth hiding behind. Still, yeah, I'm insecure and my locks are comforting but let's face it: I'm too old to be rocking hair past my bra strap. Aren't I?
All of that hair drama to say that I'm going to cut two inches off the length. You feel let down, don't you?
I've been seeing an inordinate number of really short men lately. I don't know if it's because I'm in a more urban, populated area (um, actually I do know that is precisely the reason: I've been seeing more people in general) but whatever the reason there they are: men under 5'5". I don't really have anything else to say about that other than, dude, that's a short guy.
So I did make it to the gym last night although I only did 40 minutes of cardio (stepmill of horror!) and then went home. HP's back was STILL bothering him and he was chillin' on the couch with the yoggies and, let's be real, I just want to go home and curl up on the couch with him. So I did. But tonight I will do shoulders and back and knock out a little more cardio. It's all good in tha hood.
*I am not even remotely a fashion model, nor do I aspire to be one.

Posted via email from Amyella

Warm Breakfast Goodness

I promise that it tastes better than it looks. I had to make my food for today this morning because I never got around to it last night. I plopped a blob of almond butter in the bottom of the tupperware* bowl, added little cubes of apple, doused in cinnamon, topped with oats and put the lid on. When I got to the office I added boiling hot water from the coffee machine – you know the spout that you use for tea? – and put the lid back on for a few minutes. Ta da! Warm, autumn, delicious breakfast!

Don’t you like the print on that bowl? It’s the only piece of tupperware that HP had before we moved in together.

*Tupperware is a brand name. What is the generic term for what Tupperware is? Resealable, plastic container? That’s lame.

Things I Do Not Love Right Now

I know, I’m just a posting FOOL today, right?
Maybe all that getting-back-into-the-gym-after-being-sloth-for-two-weeks has boosted my energy! Or something. Maybe I’m just bored. Either way, LUCKY YOU.
Don’t let this post make you think I’m not still doing all that optimism stuff, because I am. Positive thinking and all. Having faith and rolling with the punches. I feel like I should do jazz hands when I say that. Regardless*, ** I am still not loving a few things right now:
–I am totally NOT LOVING the woman on the other side of this cube wall who, every damn day, chews ice. Loudly. With her mouth open. It makes me feel stabby.
–This rain. Not because of the rain itself. I actually don’t mind the rain. I just don’t love walking in it because I do not have the proper footwear. Walking the dogs in the muddy grass blows goats. Especially in our community because it’s not really grass so much as a Mud Pit. Also, walking to and from the metro without rainboots is obnoxious. Yesterday I wore heels, today boots. The boots were a better alternative but still rather sucky.
–I do not love that I am flip flopping on spending the $15 at Target for rainboots. I mean, COME ON. $15? (EDITED: I was wrong, they are $25!!)  For practical, useful, needed footwear? That I will use over and over? And yet…still wavering. See below.
–And that brings me to, of course, not loving not having a real income. I am thankful for the temping, especially the past couple of weeks that have provided me a steady 40 hours per week but STILL. It is frustrating, and stressful. I have an interview Friday, fingers crossed!
*I used to think that “irregardless” was a real word. In 2001 I was in an interview and used the word “irregardless” and the gentleman (the CEO of the company) interrupted me to explain that the proper term was “regardless” and that there is no such word as “irregardless.” He was correct, of course (I looked it up when I got home), and now it is a major pet peeve of mine when I hear people say “irregardless.” I always have to resist the urge to correct them, because I don’t want to be a douche.
**When using an asterik or footnote like that, does the comma go before or after the asterik? I will have to look it up. I won’t think you’re a douche if I’ve done it wrong and you correct me.

Posted via email from Amyella

Picture of the Head Salad

For reference, next to a coffee mug that I have stealthily “borrowed” from the kitchen here and left on my desk every day for the past two weeks.
Anyway, the salad is romaine, baby spinach, red bell peppers, sun dried tomatoes, goat cheese and dressed in salt, pepper, and olive oil.

Posted via email from Amyella

Back In The Gym

I went to the gym yesterday for the first time in, like, FOREVER. Actually it was two weeks, but that's pretty much forever, isn't it? I was only there for an hour – 30 min of chest and abs and 30 min of cardio. I assure you, it was plenty for the day.
I have to admit that I feel pretty great today. I woke up starving, but I also went to bed hungry so that pretty much makes sense. Funny how exercising makes your body, like, work and stuff. I packed a head salad for lunch today.
A head salad being, of course, a salad at least as large as – and probably bigger than my tiny – head.
HP is going back to the gym tonight for the first time in three weeks. We are good influences on each other, no? To be fair, he's been on medication for a back spasm for the past two weeks. My excuse is that I needed to be home to take caaaaare of him. Or that I'm a lazy slug. But who's judging?
It would be great if I could get myself up early enough to do my cardio in the morning again but I really haven't been feeling that lately. Despite the fact that I set my alarm for it almost every morning. Because I'm an optimist. Ha!
It's almost noon. Head salad is calling. I think tonight will be shoulders, because it's my favorite, and the step mill, because I'm an asshole.

Posted via email from Amyella

Trying Like The Dickens

I'm not sure what that means, "like the dickens," but it's the only phrase that came to my mind while I was sitting here a few minutes ago, staring at this laptop and just not moving. I have a cup of tea and I was holding onto it, staying warm, and letting my mind wander too far down windy roads before snapping myself out of it.
I'm trying like the dickens to stay positive.
When I first moved to Virginia I spent an entire week on the floor sobbing. It's dramatic but true. I refused to think anything was going to be good, or become good, or even become better. That kind of negativity festers and morphs and becomes tangible. It becomes everything.
I don't want to throw a tantrum and I don't want to fester in negativity. I only have control over one thing, namely, my attitude. Positive thinking and optimism are far better choices than woe-is-me and tears.
That didn't stop me from crying.
And really? Life, overall, is good. Life is grand! And while I loathe to play the victim I can't help but wonder, out loud sometimes, when is it going to get easy?
I have control over my attitude, my thinking, of course. I'm trying like to dickens to will it away but I have no control over the toxic anxiety and black tar feeling in my gut.

Posted via email from Amyella



Amyella (pronounced Amy-ella) is a pseudonym for Amy Levitt, a fitness and health food fanatic and a beach girl at heart. She has been sharing her sometimes nonsensical thoughts and self-amusing stories online since 2002 and currently spends a good deal of her time wrangling her 90 pound Rottweiler and 60 pound Boxer. Which is quite a show.
The origin of the name Amyella.

Here's my deal. It's wicked exciting!


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