I've been KISSed

Two free tickets to the recent KISS concert?!

Why yes, yes, I will.

Can you say people watching?  There were 7 year olds and 70 year olds.  Gene Simmons is right up there too.  In fact, the open vested, made up legendary band was in Spokane last weekend and they rocked the Arena.  Their entertaining pyrotechnic display of rock and roll exceeded my expectations.  

One idea:  zip up those costumes. Chests should not be publicly shown after you turn 45 years old.

I enjoy a wide variety of music.  From KISS to Norah Jones, I have a plethora of vinyl, CDs and iTunes at the ready.  My favorite band is Def Leppard however KISS wasn't too bad.  

Do you remember your first concert?  I was 15 and my friends and I went to the Scorpions, Blackout tour.  

But this past weekend, I was part of the KISS Army.  In fact, right after the concert, as I was driving home, I was rear ended by a woman.  She kissed my bumper.  She was insured but slightly intoxicated.  I didn't ask her whether she was at the KISS concert - frankly, I just wanted to get home safely.  What I can't understand is the statistic I learned the next morning when I picked up the paperwork for the accident report.

I pulled into my local fire station and a nice firefighter greeted me.  He said, "what happened?"  I explained the accident.  He said, "that doesn't surprise me, you live in Spokane and you have a red car." 

Huh?

"90% of the rear enders in the state of Washington occur by/against red vehicles."

Really?

That's it.  I am turning in my car for a new color.  You see, this is the second time I've been rear ended in two years.  Granted, the other time, I was in Oregon but it was the day before I was moving back to Washington.  

So, I am on a mission.  A new color.  Your thoughts?  Or, maybe, I should jump on the KISS Army bandwagon and buy a camouflage Humvee. 

Fatherless Day

My dad died when I was 5 years old to cancer. When my mom remarried a few years later, I remember I didn't care for this man who was going to be my step father.  His name was Jerry.  He was big.  Way bigger than my 8 year old person and he was boisterous.  (Kind of like I am now).  I recall he was not my father.  The one that I can't remember now but he wasn't the same.  All I knew at that moment was he was taking the place of my dad and it just didn't feel right.

I grew to love Jerry.  He taught me about hunting (maybe that is why I am vegan now), he taught me to laugh loud, he pushed me to try new things, he pushed me to take risks (safe but reach), he shared with me his trucking stories while on the road (that could be why I love to make up voices and names of fictitious people and pretend to be them - insert Crazy Larry and Judy Ann).  Jerry genuinely cared about me.  

However, Jerry died too, of the cancer.  I was twelve when he passed away.  The ambulance arrived at our home and took his body to the hospital.  He didn't make it.  I was in eighth grade.  My mom never remarried.  She was to be my mother and my father. 

So, at times like this when most people celebrate their fathers, I celebrate my mom.  I take time to remember my dad and my step dad, my "unc" and my other male mentors.  I push myself to try new things like mountain climbing and never let any day go by without being thankful.  

Cheers to all the fathers out there, new ones and old ones and soon to be ones.  

In honor of you, I'll go climb a mountain or two.

I relapsed - eating my way through San Francisco

I thought this blog post would be fun to post photos of eating my way through my recent trip to San Francisco.

I left my heart and stomach in San Francisco - vegan style soup at Soup Freaks

And a visit to Chinatown

The best Thai food ever

Even a veggie sandwich at Alcatraz deli on Pier 33

Just a little break from eating - a regatta regalia off Fisherman's Wharf

 And, a dueling piano bar named Johnny Farley's on O'Farrell to top it off.

Thanks to Mel's Diner, Lori's Diner and Ducca's as well.  Don't forget the Wine Shop at Pier 1 and the relapse of all time...ice cream and coffee.  Yes, you heard it,  ice cream and coffee.  Thanks to Dreyer's and Peet's Coffee. I am not vegan in California.

I really did leave my heart and non-vegan life style in San Francisco!

Mini Grant - my experience at the gym Part 2

I am training for a triathlon.  My first ever.  For those of you not familiar...there are three parts to a triathlon.  Swim. Bike. Run.  In that order.

A little secret...

Barb doesn't know how to swim.  Most friends say I was abused as a child.  "Your mom didn't teach you how to swim?"  

"You didn't take swimming lessons?"

"Didn't your grandparents own a cabin on Diamond Lake?"

Yes..yes and yes.

So, I am now 41 and am getting ready to take swimming lessons for the first time.  I signed up for a triathlon so I would learn how to swim.  Because really...it is unsafe.  I love the water.  I love to doggy paddle.  I love the idea of feeling muck and seaweed in between my toes while getting hit on top of the head and body by other swimmers all while racing to some point in the lake where I then turn around to swim back and do it all over again.  

It is a sprint triathlon.  In fact today, I did a brick - I did the bike and run portion of the race for the first time.

The reason I can do this is two fold:

1.  I have a best friend (Angela Brown) who signs me up for these things.

2.  I have a person trainer (Grant Smith) who places me in situations like this one.

Allow me to explain my leg day at the gym on Friday.

I love to get my trainer up real early.  Even though I pay him for his services, he complains he loses beauty sleep so he pays me back by placing me in urban exercise routines.

Step 1:  It's called the sled.  I get on a treadmill which is unplugged.  He places his foot on the back while burning his toe (yes, I look like a Clydesdale running up hill).  In fact, at one point, I sounded like a horse.

Step 2:  Proceed to the stationary bike.  I think the resistance goes to 25.  Well, he started me on 25 and then to 20, back to 25, oh wait, or was that 20.  Grant decided my quads needed to "lean out."  I inherited by father's thighs.  

Step 3:  Tire turns outside:  My gym is next to a day care.  You ask, "what does this have anything to do with tire turning."  The children decided to be voyeurs through the fence.

"What is she doing?"

"She's playing with a tire."

Mind you, it was a 200 lb tire...squat, lift, turn.  While the dirt destroyed my manicure...HELLO. 

Children:

"Go faster."

"She needs to bring it all the way over here."

"Hurry."

And, hence mini Grants.  Those children are mini Grants - they all want to be personal trainers.  Throwing about verbal demands, motivating me to obtain my goals and stating the obvious.

Grant was so proud...I think what would have made him even more proud had one of the little 6 year olds said, "squat lady!"

Lastly, the new name of an exercise I did to lean out my body.  It's called the hot mess.  Yes, the hot mess.  You can only imagine but here is what it looks like post hot mess...

Thank you to those five days at the gym and to those who have helped me along the way.  My triathlon is August 21.  I promise to begin my swimming classes next week.