weight loss

Body For Life, Week #3

Official weight: 199 pounds. Up half a pound from last week. (Today’s unofficial weight was 200.)

I took my body fat reading this morning, too, just because I was curious and didn’t want to wait another week. It started at 31.8%, and kept dropping each successive reading, until by the fourth reading it said 31.2%. I figure I’m below 32%, at least, maybe closer to 31.5%. I seem to be losing body fat, at any rate, which is good.

I’ve been slacking on the diet still, not as diligent about sticking to the Approved Foods List as I was, and that’s obvious from my results. I’ve been slacking a little on the workouts, too, but that’s mainly been since Monday. With my new workout possibility of Aikido, I’ll probably end up making myself a new schedule of exercise that doesn’t conform exactly to the BFL guidelines. (I’m probably not going to be too keen on doing a two hour Aikido practice, then coming straight home and doing 45 minutes of strength training, then promptly going to bed.)

My attitude this week has been pretty overwhelmingly defeatist. I had a super depressed stretch there, and I’ve been really irritable lately, and I’m not sure where this is all stemming from. Maybe it’s The Pill; maybe it’s stress that I’m ignoring; maybe it’s a combination of things. All I know is that I’m tired of being irritable and defensive toward Aaron all the time. Maybe getting back on the wagon will help level out my moods.

I was almost ready to quit the BFL program this weekend until I got my official entry kit in the mail, complete with postcard to send in to confirm my participation in the program. I filled it out and sent it in, kind of half-heartedly. I don’t want to be a quitter, but I do want to see some results. Here’s hoping that next week’s progress photos will provide the results I’m seeking…

aikido

Slightly Spontaneous

I just joined an Aikido dojo. Paid the two-month introductory fee, got my size-five gi, and now I’m primed and ready to be thrown around like a ragdoll.

I happened upon the dojo’s website this week; there was an adult class scheduled for 5:45pm today, so I decided I should go check it out. Before that, though, I did a little research online, read up, watched some videos, and was duly impressed by the art in general. I filled out the dojo’s online form last night, then showed up this evening at about the time that class was supposed to start.

I knew where the dojo was, no problem; Aaron and I drive past it just about every weekend. I showed up, removed my shoes where everyone else obviously had (before the quasi-tatami carpeted floor began), and was beckoned in by the sensei. I was shown where the restrooms and changing rooms were, told a little about the art, and invited to sit down and watch class.

The one-hour class focused on one particular throw, and various aspects of how to do it properly. Had I just known the proper way to fall and roll, I felt that I could have done both parts of the throw, thrower and throwee, by the end of the class. Tai Chi and Aikido have distinct similarities in movement and intention, and I could relate to that, having learned two separate forms of Tai Chi in college. My physical fear, the fear of having the living shit beaten out of me, was assuaged when I realized that all the loud noises were purposeful *slaps* on the mat by the person being thrown. I got the impression that it was a signal of sorts: the move is over, we’ve both completed our parts properly, now let me up. The higher-ranked people tended to be more “fun” and flamboyant with their rolls and smacking of the mat; the lower-ranked (or unranked) tended to fall with more temerity, and gently tap the mat when they’d rolled through and had enough.

The entire time I watched, I was enraptured. All I could think was, “I want to play, too!” In retrospect, I probably should have waited to fill out the paperwork until I’d actually participated in a class… but Sensei does have a policy on his website that guarantees your money back if you aren’t satisfied in the first month, or if you think that this dojo just isn’t for you. My last real fear, of sparring, was quelled by Sensei after the class, when he told me that they *never* spar. It’s all exercises like the one I’d seen: planned out, agreed-upon by both parties. So, I think I’m safe to try this thing out.

What’s bizarre to me is that, now, I just show up to a class and jump in. The next Basics seminar (which is included in my first two-month fee) isn’t until July 28th. By then, I sure hope I’ve been taught how to roll properly and all that jazz. Otherwise, I’ll be in a world of hurt.

This will be good for me, for many reasons:

  1. I need a social outlet besides work.
  2. I need a reason to exercise, and a way to make it fun.
  3. I need to get outside of my comfort zone more often.
  4. I need the mental balance and focus that a martial art can provide.
  5. I need to balance my ego/self-centeredness with my humility/self-deprecation.

I didn’t realize until I spoke with Sensei after class how egocentric I can be. All I wanted to do was tell him my background, what I know already, why I want to be in his dojo, how much I love Japanese culture, etc. All he wanted to do was get me signed up, give me my dogi, and thank me for joining the dojo. When I gave him my credit card to run, I told him that was the credit card that funded my trip to Japan last month. When he lit up and said, “Really,” was my response about how awesome the culture is, or how great of a time I had? No — it was an admission that I’m a bit of a Japan geek. He responded that Aikido was definitely in that same vein; but it was obvious to me that, by turning the topic toward myself and away from our shared love of things Japanese, I had failed to engage his interest.

Now, after having signed my name to the dojo list and paid by credit card, I’m feeling that “oh shit what have I done” feeling… but I know that’s just the feeling of my comfort zone being stretched a little. I’m a little boggled that I can just show up and start learning — no primer, no Aikido 101? I’m trying to decide whether I want to start with tomorrow’s class and just jump right in, or whether I want to wait until next Monday (or Saturday morning, if I get up early enough). I’ll probably just go tomorrow, to jump right in and start learning. Maybe I can show up early and get a quickie on how to roll properly, so I don’t kill myself.

By the way… the first thing I did when I got home? Tried on my dogi. I felt like the friggin’ Karate Kid, trying to figure out how the damn thing went on. It feels a little big on me, but it’s possible that the next size down would be too small; I don’t know how the sizes run, and Sensei obviously has more experience in these things than I do.

We’ll see how this works out. I’m excited, and nervous, and stoked.

geekspeak

Astronomy Geekgasm (or, Ursa Major Space Station)

I just watched the International Space Station and the Space Shuttle Atlantis fly over. That was SO COOL.

Earlier this week (or maybe it was this past weekend), Aaron had mentioned that our friend Kris took his three-year-old son, Sam, outside and showed him the ISS flyover. After that, from what I understand, Sam not only wanted to see it fly over ALL THE TIME, but every passing car and truck became a space shuttle.

I can dig it.

Earlier this evening, I got a SpaceWeather.com e-mail stating that the Atlantis had left the ISS and would be traveling behind it for the next visible orbit. Hmm, I thought. I should go out and look at that. So, I punched up the Heavens Above website and discovered that the flyover time for Toledo would be around 10:32pm. The ISS would come up in the northwest, pass through the Big Dipper, then arc overhead to set somewhere on the southeastern horizon.

I went outside a few minutes early, to get my eyes dark-adapted — but I got eaten by bugs and startled by neighbors, so I went back inside to wait out the last few minutes. With one minute to go, I stepped outside and sat on the front step, focusing my sight on Ursa Major.

And then, holy shit! There it was! No, there THEY were. One giant, fat, bright star, being chased by an only slightly dimmer star. They came up through the trees and passed through the Big Dipper, as promised. I felt like, if only my glasses were a little stronger, I could have seen those fancy new solar panels on the station. I was so excited, I not only gaped at the sky like a slack-jawed, grinning idiot, but I ran across the driveway in my bare feet to follow them to the other side of the house, so I could watch the ISS and Atlantis orbit over to the other horizon. As the pair set, they got dimmer and dimmer until, several degrees above the horizon, they both disappeared from sight. As they did, though, I saw another satellite crossing their path — I’m not sure which one it was, but it may have been Cosmos 1455 or TRMM.

That trumped the hell out of Halley’s Comet. (I lied to my Girl Scout leader about being able to see the comet back in 1986, just so they would let me pass the binoculars to someone else already.)

I could easily make this a ritual and watch the ISS flyby every night before bed, chamomile tea in hand. Good night, astronauts… 🙂

By the way… are there any other Trekkers (or Trekkies) out there who have trouble calling the International Space Station the ISS, in light of the mirror-universe ISS Enterprise?

ruminations 2 Comments

Waiting For The Cloud To Pass

I don’t deal well with depression anymore. Now that I feel like I’m pretty “normal” most of the time — as opposed to ten or twelve years ago, when feeling pointless and uninspired was the norm for me — now that I’m usually OK, I don’t revel in this nastiness. I’d rather it be over.

But it’s just not that easy.

I feel like a very small person, mentally, when I can’t take constructive criticism; when I can’t gracefully accept someone else’s successes; when I can’t don’t keep bargains I’ve made with myself; when I’m reminded that I’m still kind of a fuck-up sometimes, despite being a 31-year-old “grown-up,” and that I already knew that I was a fuck-up, and that I just never fixed the problem. I hate getting down on myself for shit, instead of just fixing the shit and moving on.

Maybe I do still revel in this BS. If I didn’t, I’d just fucking pick myself up, shake myself off, and move on. Right?

*sigh*

I’m too tired to think about this shit right now. I need to chill out and go to bed. After I figure out what’s for lunch tomorrow.

japan trip 2007

Japan Trip, Day 2, Part 3: Japanese BBQ

When we last left our travelers (myself and my husband Aaron, that is), the Dynamic Tokyo Tour was leaving Happo-en Garden and heading toward Chinzanso Gardens for a Japanese BBQ lunch at Mokushun-do Restaurant.

You may recall that, at the very beginning of the tour, our tour guide had asked us if both beef and pork were OK for lunch. We’re crazy omnivorous Americans, so we agreed that both were fine. En route to Chinzanso, Junko asked again for a show of hands of who didn’t want beef, and who didn’t want pork. After a quick count, she seemed perplexed, and told us that some people had apparently changed their minds, because the counts were different than earlier. After two more shows of hands, Junko finally went through the entire bus one more time, asking everyone individually whether they wanted only beef or only pork, and making it clear that it would *not* be OK for us to change our minds after this point. Being that this didn’t really affect us directly, the whole scene was more amusing than anything else.

Japanese BBQ, as with other styles of Asian BBQ, involves a server cooking the food at your table. At Mokushun-do, we were served pork, beef, sweet onion, asparagus, and Japanese sweet potato, all grilled at the table and dipped in a light BBQ sauce before serving. Each table at the restaurant was equipped with a large square griddle in the center; we could feel the heat put off by the griddle at our table before we even sat down. All of the tour participants sat six to a table, two on a side, with one side of the table reserved for the chef/server. Aaron and I ended up sitting with a younger couple and an older couple, who both turned out to be from Sweden.

That was one interesting aspect of our English-speaking tour: most of the tour participants were not native English speakers. There were Swedish people, Japanese people, and I’m sure there were other nationalities and languages being represented, as well. English just seemed to be a common second (or third) language for most of these people. It made the tour more interesting, I think — especially during the earlier tea ceremony, when Junko-san had to repeatedly tell the Japanese-speakers to please be quiet until the end of the ceremony.

Back to lunch. Our server came around and tied apron-bibs onto all of us who were seated at her table. The photo ops that ensued became yet another way for us to meet our fellow tourists and get photos of ourselves:

It was at this point when we learned that our table-mates were all Swedish — and, no, the two couples were not together. They were visibly excited to learn that they were compatriots, which was fun to see. It was also fun to see other people use up all the conversational English they knew. ^_^

As our server put the meat and vegetables on the griddle, she would tell one person in the group what it was. There was one item that Aaron and I didn’t catch, though, and that eventually offered me an opportunity to use my Japanese again. We were served one piece of meat and one vegetable at a time: pork and asparagus, beef and onion, etc. When the mystery item was served, I got our server’s attention and asked, “Kore wa nan desu ka?”

“Japanese sweet potato,” she said in highly accented Japanese — so it came out “Japanesu suweetu potehto.” Then she told us that it was very different from normal sweet potato, and we agreed and thanked her. After she told us, we could totally tell that’s what it was. The insides were white and the skin looked purple, but the texture and taste became immediately more recognizable, once we knew what it was.

A moment later, our server gestured to my chopstick hand and said, “Good chopstick!” I thanked her, once her meaning sank in (I forget whether I did so in English or Japanese), and Aaron and I briefly compared chopstick styles. Aaron uses kind of his own style, while I do it the way that the disposable chopstick wrappers describe, with their pictures and their great Engrish. Our server saw the way Aaron and I were silently comparing notes, and how Aaron was realizing that he was doing his chopsticking some kind of effed-up way, and she giggled. It was a cute moment.

After four or five mini-courses, we had a dessert of vanilla bean ice cream (with cute little spoons!) and a different kind of tea than the standard green tea served with lunch. After dessert, we were given 30 minutes to walk the grounds and make our way back to the bus. Aaron went to untie his apron-bib, and our server jumped into action and apologized, helping him remove his bib. The level of service in Japan is really an experience in itself.

We made a quick restroom break at the restaurant, then headed out to see the grounds — in the rain. Luckily, Chinzanso was kind enough to provide umbrellas for their guests, so we each borrowed an umbrella and struck out into the rain. I would have liked to have spent more time in the gardens, as there was so much to see: a 500-year-old sacred tree, with branches held up by crutches; Shiratama Inari Shrine, a three-story pagoda, and various gods/idols and water features and bridges and such. Alas, we barely had time to check out the few things we did, and the rain really started to come down as we were walking. We made it back to the main building on time, dropped off our umbrellas in the waiting rack, and headed out to the bus. Next stop: the Imperial Palace.

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