Pre-Book Signing Nightmare

I’m normally a level headed woman who deals with new situations and opportunities with glee.  I thought I was handling the pressure of my first book signing (for Laughter in the Midst of Mothering…….  www.LindaCrosby.com)  but I realized when I awoke from my nightmare that I must have been suppressing inner turmoil about the event.  The dream was entertaining, however.

I dreampt that the alarm was not set and I overslept.  The air got sucked out of my lungs as I realized my dilemma.  The book signing started at 11:00 a.m. and in my dream I awoke at 12:15 confused and flustered.  IT WAS SO REAL!  I couldn’t figure out if it was 3:00 or 12:15…. you know, because the clock hands could be reversed….funny how your mind plays trick on you even in your sleep.  Then my father called me from his cell phone at the book store to ask where I was and to tell me that the highway north of us was flooded and I would need to go the long way around.  I was sobbing and mumbling. 

I went to find my husband, whose fault it was for not setting the alarm, and he was watching a movie in a theater room that we don’t have.  I told him over and over that we were late and he was to blame.  His eyes were glued to the big screen.  He didn’t seem too interested in my plight.  So I went over and beat on him with the back of my wrists…. you know…. like an orangutan.  (Dreams are great, aren’t they??)  Next, I went up stairs, did my hair and threw on my clothes…. crying all the while.  Back downstairs I went again to tell Rick he had to drive so I could apply my make-up in the van.  He had moved to the workout room that we don’t have and was busy clanging weights…. not listening to me.  Another primate beating occurred. 

Then I woke up.  It was over.  I hadn’t acted like a monkey.  The alarm was set.  My husband was asleep next to me… and he didn’t buy a theater room or gym without asking me first…. and there was time to make it to the book signing.  Whew.

If someone out there has another dream interpretation other than pre-book signing jitters, I’d love to hear it.

Sweet Dreams.

Ghetto Circuit Training

Yesterday we started the new Crosby Fitness Program, otherwise known as “Just shoot me now.”  On the clearly displayed, nice muscly picture above…. if the muscle changes color… that means it is hurting on my body right now.  This program is designed to impress those with an activity level of a snail, couch potato or lamp post.  You pick, if this applies to you.

In our loft we have an elliptical machine, so that became the work-out room of choice.  There is also an overstuffed reading chair and a cushy loveseat, but those are to be avoided during the allocated regime times unless used to hold your feet for crunches.  Close by and handy is the staircase.  Not that I don’t go up and down enough already…..   We also introduced into the mix some dumb-bells…. in ever increasing weights of 1,2 and 10 pound varieties.

So we have five stations: legs, arms, cardio, abs and the death climb, where you run the stairs.  This is so ghetto it cracks me up.  Rocky Balboa worked out in slums nicer than this.  Anyway, we do 2 minutes at each station and rest and drink water in between.  We do the whole thing twice around, and can I just say, I’m out of shape.  Getting down to lie on the floor for ab exertion should count for something, but it doesn’t.   However, I do count getting back up as part of a leg work out. 

I’m wondering why I need to work muscles that only hurt when I work them?  I obviously don’t use them for daily tasks, or they wouldn’t be aching.  Why do they need to be worked? I breathe in and the area where other people’s six-pack is hurts.  I lift my arms to dry my hair and my arms cry out.  And let me just say, I’ve been asking the kids to run up the stairs if I need something that is still there after I have descended once for the day.

Family togetherness is a beautiful thing.  Sweaty, whiny, flabby and beautiful.