To go out or not to go out... that is the question. All my talk of making the sun come out scared it away I suppose. I had been hoping to get back into the gym routine this morning.
Tramadol.. the wonder drug I wrote about some months ago.. helped my various pains so much that I was able to start going to the local World Healthyness. I started out not being able to do too much for very long at all, and slowly each day I could do a little more. Now it's been about two weeks since I've been. I miss it. I don't want to stay off the bandwagon just because I've fallen off of it.
The sucky part about the rain is that I'll have to wear a coat. Normally, I just shuffle out of the house in my work-out clothes and catch the bus to the gym. It drops me off practically at the door of the place, so I don't usually need a jacket or anything. Just my trusty mp3 player. However, recent ambition to save up crazy amounts of money for the next six months means that I've chosen to go without my monthly buss pass.
Okay.. backtracking a little.. The wonder drug? It lets me walk to Bullseye. The Bullseye that's always stealing my money? Yeah.. it's just under two miles away from my house, and I haven't been able to walk that sort of distance in years. The gym is even closer than that, so walking is an option, I just don't know if walking in the rain with no coat is an option.
Ideally, I'd want to get out of here soon-ish. Today is a sort of busy day. Not with actual doings, but with telephone calls. I have three referrals from my primary care physician and appointment making over the phone sucks. It can be hours of bad music and stupid questions sometimes. And that's just one appointment. I also have to schedule an ultrasound of my liver. Recent blood tests show that my liver enzymes are really high.
The liver thing scared me for a bit because my doctor threw around the Hepatitis B/C card. I can happily say I'm much calmer about it now that I've done some reading up on it though. It's not the HIV / Herpes doom-bomb I thought it was. I may not even have it. He also said it could just be fatty liver disease.
All disease is bad disease, but in this case, and in the case of the arthritis I supposedly have, I'm not frantic. My doctors blase and oft repeated cure is to lose the weight. Well, I'm working on it. I've dropped about ten plus pounds, and I'm managing to keep it off. It's not just going to all fall off in the blink of an eye though. I gained weight over many many years of not being able to walk. It'll probably be years before I'm down to my goal size 14.
I so want to go to the gym. I think I'm going to.
In other news. Bratexander has a dance performance thing tonight. His semester of Hip Hop is over. So far it's the only activity we've stuck him in that he didn't love. I kind of mourn the three hundred plus dollars that went whoosh.. but I'm all about making him try new things. He loves music and he has joyful seizures that pretend to be dance moves whenever he is around a radio. I thought dance class would help and I even resisted the urge to stick him in ballet. Unfortunately, he wound up being the only boy in his class and he felt unnerved being surrounded by nothing but girls. I guess until now his interactions with other children had always been more balanced.
Then there was the bit about not remembering anything he'd learned in class once he got home. Talking to his teacher revealed something that was already a familiar pattern to us. He's great in class. So says every teacher we expose him to. School. Piano. Dance. Now martial arts. ( Mind you, we the parental units wouldn't know, as he hates all things we try to work on or teach him at home. Reading. Math. Piano practice. It's like pulling teeth. He gets to class, and he's some kind of idiot savant.) The Hip Hop teacher couldn't help figure out why he wasn't remembering choreography at home, so we just sort of sucked it up and rode it out.
Punky and I continue to half jokingly discuss sticking him in Irish Stepdance, since he had a little taste of that last year at the IAC. My mother would like to see him in ballet, for one to see the family tradition continue, and for another, because she thinks ballet is the road to life. It helps with flexibility and balance. Things that will come in handy when we try and make an Olympian out of him.
And honestly? Bratexader the Great will probably wind up doing it all. Maybe not all at the same time, so as not to overwhelm him, but still getting a taste of it all. Over the years as he grows up, whenever I've butted heads with my mother as to his upbringing there's been a certain phrase I keep going back to.
To me, Bratexander the Great is a New Child. I tell my mother often that he's not a child of the past like I was, instead he belongs to the future. He's a world child. He's got just about every corner of the world in his blood, and the corners that aren't in the blood are in the house or around him elsewhere and helping in his raising. I may not mention the rest of the village often, but they are there, and he is being raised by all of them.
I've got Martin Luther King Jr. type dreams for my son. I want nothing to be foreign to him. I want him to see the world, and know about it. I want him to know the music of it, and its dances. I want him to eat all its foods and see all its colors.
The Brat and I share a birthday. He was the only present I got the night of my eighteenth birthday. Which means, that when he is eighteen, I will only be thirty six. Okay, so most of the time I amongst the female population that feels like thirty should stay away forever. I won't lie. But.. in truth, thirty six is pretty young. Lots of people are only just starting to figure it all out at that age. I've at least got a good steady solid plan. That's what I do, I'm a planner. When I'm thirty six, I'll still be young. Hopefully, I'll be strong. I'm trying to shape up my health now, so it'll be there when I need it then.
When I am thirty six Satan will no longer have a hold on me. If on a whim I want to put us all on a plane to Japan, I'll be able to do that and no one could stop me.
Anywho.. I need more parental friends that I can talk to. Parenting has started to feel a little lonely, and I know it affects the boy too. Me not having parent-y friends means no play dates. My neighborly Raven has sort of fallen off the map and The Brat hasn't exactly made friends at his lessons. I have such a hard time making friends though. I'm closed off, defensive, and.. just .. me. I'm a lone lion?
Oh well. No closer to figuring out if I should risk the rain and go to the gym. Help?