Chapstick Challenge

My lips are on fire right now. I am nowhere near my beloved tube of chapstick. All I want is to grasp my beautiful Burt's Bees and slather that goodness on my lips. Before you call the police to inform them of a kidnap, I am safe and sound in the comfort of my home, but I have been without chapstick for approximately 22 hours

Let's rewind and get you up to speed. Last Tuesday, Troy introduced me to my chapstick challenge. He wondered if I could go without chapstick for a full 24 hours. My first thought was panic. I had just applied my chapstick before going to bed and if I accepted his challenge I wouldn't be able to reapply until bedtime the next day! My next thought was that I wasn't sure if I would be up for the challenge. I mean, I always have chapstick on me. You know how some men have an outline of their wallet that has worn through their jeans, so even if their wallet is not in their pocket, it looks like it is? I have had that happen to me except it was a chapstick outline in my front, right pocket of my jeans. I wish I were joking here. I tried to figure out how long I have been nursing this habit and it has been at least since high school. So when I say that I wasn't sure if I could complete the challenge, my fear was valid. I was being asked to change a behavior that I have exhibited for over ten years!

I must have been off my rocker, but I accepted the challenge. I still don't know why. Anyway, the next day was awful. I purposely left my chapstick on my night stand. I couldn't trust myself to put it in my pocket because I already knew that there are times during the day when I subconsciously take it out and put it on. I realized that I was completely addicted because I reached into my pocket for my chapstick probably ten times that day and every other minute, I thought about how chapped my lips were.

I knew I was going to need a plan of attack if I was going to make it through the day. Unfortunately, they don't make Nicorate patches for chapstick addicts. I decided that every time I wanted to take a hit off my chapstick, I would take a drink of water. Besides getting more of my daily fluid intake, I thought that I would take this addiction head on - psychology style. Here was my theory. I learned in my psychology class in college about Freud, and while I think some of his ideas were completely delusional (I am referring the envy he claimed women had to the male genitalia) there was one stage that I thought maybe I fit in, the oral stage. People who fixate on this stage may have issues with smoking, biting their nails, or in my case, habitual chapstick usage. I thought if I could substitute one oral habit (chapstick) for another (drinking water), I might be able to lick this (no pun intended - to my psychologist friends, thank you for laughing at that one). It didn't work. Long story short, I still wanted my chapstick and on top of that, I was in the bathroom twice as much as usual. On the bright side, I was not at all dehydrated.

Chapstick was all I could think about. It was all I wanted. And yet, I could have applied at any time. Why was I putting myself through this? I have two theories:

1. Competition. I have realized that I am a very competitive person. Mostly I am competing with myself, which also explains my perfectionist tendencies. When Troy challenged me to the chapstick challenge, I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it. Though I still think I should get a gold star or a sticker or something for this.

2. Addiction. I seriously think I am addicted to chapstick. It kind of bothers me how my life almost revolves around chapstick and it wasn't until I took this challenge did I realized that I didn't like being chained to this habit.

I did complete the challenge, successfully. At bedtime, I was allowed to put on my chapstick and boy did I put it on. There were probably five even coats on my lips before I turned out the lights. I sighed a sigh of relief as I realized the torture was done. It wasn't until the next morning that I surprised even myself. After getting ready for the day, I went back to my night stand to put on my wedding ring and watch, but I stopped myself when I went to reach for my chapstick. I thought about the torture I went through the day before and wondered if it would be easier today. I let the chapstick spend the day on my nightstand. Not only that, for a full week, I have only been putting on chapstick at bedtime. It is getting easier to go without . . . sort of. It's more like I am getting used to wanting to rip my lips off each day. We'll see how long I last . . . right now I am just trying to survive until bedtime.

The Civil War Between Pam and her Legs

The day before yesterday, Troy and I went to the health club. I didn't much feel like doing cardio, and knew I was about due for a leg workout. Now, if you are me or Troy (which would be very weird if you were) and you hear the words "leg workout" you immediately start sweating. It is also very important to point out that leg workouts need to be planned because you will be out of commission for a couple of days. So, if you are planning on playing basketball or disc golf with the guys tomorrow, a leg workout today is not a good idea. You folks are lucky because I am about to share the Carlson's Leg Workout. After a few of these, you'll have stellar legs which you will not be able to use because you'll be in too much pain.

Our leg workouts have evolved a little since we have become gym rats but they all start the same, traveling lunges. I grab two fifteen pound dumbbells (Troy has more weight, but that is because he is so strong and dreamy) and find a low traffic area in the gym. Then I do ten traveling lunges (traveling lunges are when you start standing with your legs together and take a big step forward with your right leg, then you dip your body down, keeping your torso perpendicular to the floor and your right knee makes a 90 degree angle. Then you stand back up and bring your left leg forward to meet your right leg so your stance looks the same as when you started, just one step away) turn around and do ten more. That is one set. Then I do two more sets.

Next, I do squats of some kind. Lately, I like finding those resistance bands that you Velcro to your ankles and a medicine ball. With my legs together, I start by taking a sideways step with my right leg so my legs are apart. Then, holding the medicine ball, I squat down, come back up and bring my left leg together with my right leg. I do ten steps leading with the right leg and ten steps leading with the left leg. That is one set. Then I do two more sets. Now you know our leg workout secrets. It's like having a trainer in your house with you. I am imaging the trainers from Biggest Loser reading these paragraphs and beaming with pride because I am sure that they send their free time reading my blog.

By the time I am finishing up my last set of traveling squats, I am making grunting noises and honestly fearful that my squat stance combined with my fatigue and stress of the exercise is creating a perfect storm for flatulence. My only hope is that nobody walks by because it truly is out of my control at this point. When I finish, I am staggering over to my water bottle, mostly because I am tired, but also because I haven't found the strength to un-Velcro the straps from my ankles so I mimic a convict shuffling into court with his ankle restraints. When I go to sit on the floor to rest and remove the straps, I realize that my legs no longer have the strength they did when I first entered the health club. They now have the strength of Jell-o. I catch my breath and gulp down water as on-lookers judge me for sitting on my rump at the health club. These also tend to be the same people who only walk the track and missed me doing the workouts I mentioned above. At this point, I think, "eh, that's good enough" and then I finish with some light cardio.

The next morning, I wake up and get ready for the day. Everything seems fine until I sit down in the afternoon for more than thirty minutes. When I stand back up, suddenly everything is tight and uncomfortable. I know, this is only the beginning of the civil war about to be unleashed. My leg muscles have decided to revolt against me. Since I made the workout so challenging, they are retaliating by making simple things like walking, impossible. This continues for the rest of the day. At bed time, you hope relief is in sight, but more often than not the next day is more challenging than the first. Troy and I often have slow down for the other person when walking. The slower person will say something about the leg workout and the faster person nods with empathy and slows the pace.

This obviously has an effect on daily life. I have been working on a few sewing projects and started to walk (slowly) upstairs to get to work, when I realized that there was something in my purse I needed to complete a project. I literally stood on the stairs for a minute to decide if I should get it myself, ask Troy to bring it to me, or maybe just forget the sewing project all together. I ending up getting it on my own, wincing all the way down as I took each step and then wincing as I went back up the stairs.

The funny thing is, I know my legs, while incapacitated for the time being are getting stronger. The soreness almost makes me feel like my legs are ripped like the Hulk. I strut (in my mind anyway, in real life I am shuffling while making muffled grunting noises) around the house like a super model on the runway. Then when I get a glimpse of myself in the mirror, I am surprised that my "bulging" muscles are not quite so bulging. In fact, they look the same as they did the evening before I did my leg workout. How can this be?

Anywho, I am currently on day two of my civil war with my legs. Thankfully I already know that the north wins. Sorry legs, there will be no seceding the country of Pam Land. I win in the end.

Boo-yah.

Laura Petrie Pants

When I was in high school, my sister and I were wild. We would stay up super late, into the wee hours of the night. My parents were completely oblivious to what we were up to. While they were snug in their warm bed, Laura and I would be watching television shows that only were on after a certain hour. We were watching . . . Nick at Night. Now you know our shame. My sister and I would spend our crazy nights watching Nick at Night until we couldn't keep our eyes open anymore. That's right, we were nuts for "Bewitched", "Petticoat Junction" and "I Dream of Jeanie." One of our personal favorites was "The Dick Van Dyke Show;" probably because we loved the movie Mary Poppins so much. In case I need to make a link for you folks, Dick Van Dyke played Bert in the movie, but seeing as we were watching the Dick Van Dyke show after seeing Mary Poppins, we would just call him Bert. Referencing him also often involved a rendition of the chimney sweeper dance, obviously.

One interesting fact about "The Dick Van Dyke Show" is that Mary Tyler Moore, who played Laura Petrie, was a bit of a risque actress who wanted to wear pants (gasp!) on television during a time when married couples were shown sleeping in individual twin beds. The network respected Moore enough to allow her to wear pants for only one scene in each episode. (After I learned this, I thought it was fun to notice this with each episode.) The pants she chose were black, although the show was in black and white, so they could have been any dark color, and they were capris, or as my grandma likes to call them, petal pushers. I always thought they looked so classy.

Fast forward to a few months ago when I was shopping at my meca, The Gap. I was trying on some dress pants when I found a pair that I was sure would look heinous on me, but they were on sale so I thought I would give them a chance. I put them on, looked in the mirror and fell in love. They were Laura Petrie pants!! At long last, I had found them and let me tell you, I wore them well. Laura Petrie would be proud. These dress pants are currently hanging in my closet amongst my other dress pants which happen to be harboring unfriendly feelings toward the Laura Petrie pants because they know the Laura Petrie pants are my favorite.

The only problem I had with my Laura Petrie pants is the same problem I have with all dress pants. I don't understand why the pockets are sewn up. It is like the factories think that you are going to try on the dress pants, stuff them full of things and then put them back. I think if they are going to sew up the pockets, they should put a message inside like a fortune cookie. I would love it, if I got home with my new Laura Petrie pants, ripped open the seams and found a message in the pocket. Here are a few suggestions that would be fantastic.

"Wow, your butt looks awesome in here!"
"Wanna hold hands?"
"You are going to have a great day, so long as you strut your stuff."

Anyway, you get the idea. I just think it would be fun. I mean if they are going to sew up the pockets on my Laura Petrie pants, the least they could do is put a little surprise message that could say something like, "You call these Laura Petrie pants? Laura Petrie calls these Pam Carlson pants."