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Oh Herro Again…

Hello Again, Blog…

Let’s try this again…oh yeah, this means that I’m going through another change/chapter in my life — this is the first time I have ever gone ahead and quit a job without any back up plan…

I’m terrified and exhilarated at the same time.

Ask me again in a month if I’m still exhilarated, though.  My savings are finite and I can go stark crazy staying home all day.

Thus, I shall try my hand at writing and blogging again — just to keep myself busy and inspired.

Wish me luck.

Chantry Flats Hike

 

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I never knew there was such pretty hiking trails just outside of Los Angeles. Although, I had to wake up at the butt crack of 6 am, but it was completely worth it. I never really go hiking in the summer because my greatest enemy tends to come out during the summer times…the ever-so-awful evilus lizardus.

So misty mountains, cool earth, cold temperatures — those were perfect hike conditions for me.

I went with a group of my Kickball friends who are always a fun bunch.

The hike was long and surprisingly arduous (probably because half the trail was a bit slippery from the previous day’s rain). But that waterfall was a very welcome surprise and definitely worth the hike. I will be back…y’know, after summer and when all the evilus lizardus are hiding under the rocks where they belong.

DUI checkpoint

 

On Super Bowl weekend, the boyfriend and I headed to San Diego to celebrate his birthday. He flew out to SD to hang out with his friends, and I drove down after work. It is important to note that I had already gone to Palmdale to do a site inspection at a jail. So that day had already had me driving over hundreds of miles.

We went to Pacific Beach and had dinner. I had a Maker’s and Ginger.

Then, we went to the boyfriend’s old hangout bar, where I had a beer.

Then we drove to our hotel, the Keating Hotel, in downtown San Diego.  On our way there, he is directing me back onto the freeway…straight into the midst of a DUI checkpoint.  I could have told the Officer that I was not drunk. But my bloodshot eyes told a whole different story. So, he ordered me out of the car, ordered Chris out of the car. Had one of minions drive away with my car, while I followed him to some elementary school’s parking lot.

He asks a lot of questions: from basic facts about myself, to where I went to, when the last time I went to sleep was, whether I went to work, etc…It was odd. So this is what it feels like to be at the other end of a deposition.  I answered all the questions he posed at me.

Then came the physical tests.

I had heels on, and it was bloody cold. He asked me to do that heel-toe walking test. While counting up to 60. I wobbled a couple times. Oh, and did I mention that due to my sobriety, I was actually nervous?

Then came the leg raise. I had to raise my leg about 8 inches off the ground and count backwards from 75-55. Luckily, I have pretty decent balance and did not wobble.

Then he ordered that I close my eyes, and look up at the sky, hands to the side. Then count silently to “what I think is thirty seconds.”  Really??? This was possibly the hardest one. With my eyes closed, there was no visual anchor for balance. With my heart racing, I might possibly count too fast…to what I think is 30 seconds. Sigh…so I count up to 35. Not too far over thirty that it’s suspicious, but not exactly thirty either, in case I’ve been counting a little too fast.

Then there was the “follow-my-finger-and-say-the-alphabet-without-singing-it” test. I really hope I passed that. I still had bloodshot eyes. But I did my best. He asked if I wore contacts. And I said yes. He nodded and jotted some more things on that clipboard of his.

In the meantime, I’ve observed at least four people get cuffed and taken away. And several cars towed away. Did I mention I was nervous? I mean, I knew I wasn’t drunk. But man, they really made me second-guess myself.

The final test was the breathalyzer.

That was one awkward test. Wrap your lips around the stick tightly and blow. Hard. I didn’t realize I needed to blow that hard. Long deep breath in, strong breath out.  I had to try it three times, definitely nervous because I had just finished my last beer approximately 25 minutes before.  In the meantime, I see another person get cuffed and taken away. Geeeeez.

I could see the boyfriend pacing back and forth like a caged animal in the little cordoned area where all the passengers were corralled.  Did I mention I was cold. My heart was pounding so fast, but I was sweating. I was shivering — but I couldn’t tell you if it was from nerves or the cold.

Mr. San Diego PD writes my breathalyzer score on the clipboard and he walks over to someone. He gives me back my keys and walks me towards Chris. Then he gives me the patronizing speech about how I’m a girl, and I retain more water and that I was “already half way there.”

Yeah, right. I blew an 0.02.

With that, I drive away.  Me vs. the FST…I win. This time. Hopefully, there’s no next time.

 

Here’s a Video of Two Dutch Guys Getting Hooked up to Electro-stimulation Machines to Simulate the Contractions of Child Birth.

Hilarity ensues.

I have been MAD obsessed with this song for a while now.

Exactly two years ago was the last time I went snowboarding.I had hurt myself pretty terribly trying out a jump in icy conditions. So, while recuperating, I could not finish off the season. Then, last season…well, let’s just say that it resulted in June Mountain being shut down.

So, I’m really intent in getting my Snow Mojo back. My Snojo. Haha!

But it was a lot harder than I thought it would be.

Fear of injury, new boots to break in, and Southern California snow conditions weren’t the easiest ways to debut my almost-three-decade self back on the slopes. However, I still had a grand ol’ time.

It’s always a good reminder that snowboarding is really just a self-challenge. How far will you go? How fast can you ride? What new thing will you try? For me, I had two main goals: Break in the new boots that my brother had given me for Christmas TWO YEARS AGO (pre-injury), and be comfortable on the board again.

I’d say I half-accomplished both. PhotoGrid_1358056811944

Featured above: MINION, my awesome stomp pad that helped me get off the lift with fewer than normal incidents; the NEW BOOTS that I initially didn’t even know how to lace up; “Ketchup” aka Maker’s Mark in our Pepsi and Sierra Mist (Joey went to a Southern school, and I guess sprite and Maker’s Mark is popular there); BRRR, it was cold up there at 5 degrees Fahrenheit; DeTRUCK, aka Joey’s DeWalt truck that took us to the snow; Kickball BUDS, Micaela & I all bundled up.

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These boots were kind of weird to lace up, but surprisingly stayed tight (too tight, but I’m assuming it’s because it was the first time I ever put my feet in them ever). I had to go to the repair shop and have the guy in there show me how to lace these up. Hahaha! But they definitely were easier to tighten and loosen than the traditional laces. Let’s see how long they hold up.

Next week, I am off to Tahoe and I’m SUPER excited because it will be the BF’s FIRST time snowboarding!!!

50 of Each in Under 30

50 of Each in Under 30

I have been a member of the UFC Gym for over a year now. It’s a love-hate relationship.

One of my favorite (sort of) classes is called DUT: Daily Ultimate Training. It’s essentially described as this on the website:

Daily Ultimate Training is a functional strength and conditioning program. DUT combines every aspect of resistance training, body awareness drills and cardio respiratory endurance. Each class is different, competitive and will improve your overall athletic ability.

Essentially, it’s a conditioning class. Sometimes we work with resistance bands. Sometimes it’s drills throughout the gym. Sometimes we’re climbing monkey bars. Sometimes it’s kettlebells and dumbbells. Sometimes, it’s just resistance from working with your own body weight.

Each time, it’s a kick-ass work out.

Last night’s class was the Fabulous Fifty–or as I liked to called it, the Filthy Fifty. Essentially everything that is listed on the board up there…we had to do each fifty times.

FIFTY.

You don’t realize how many fifty reps is until you’ve done 35 and you’re like, oh…shit…I can’t…any…more…

The worst/best part is, you are timed throughout the whole ordeal. Everyone’s like, “Yo, man, what’s your time?” And I’m like, “Yo, dude, I didn’t die.”

But I do really appreciate classes like DUT. It’s really almost impossible to be bored when you’re fighting against your own will to keep going. And no, I won’t call it the Fabulous Fifty. For me, it’s always gonna be a filthy, gritty work out because let’s face it, I’m just not that girl. I wish I was naturally skinny, but it ain’t happening. So I need DUT.

And yeah, it’s good for me.

Sweat with No Regret

Sweat with No Regret