Ow, still

I finally sucked it up and went to the doctor about my sore neck and shoulder.

His verdict? Unsure, I'll need an x-ray and possibly an MRI, might be a pinched nerve and some sort of acute injury to the shoulder, possibly caused by the chiropractor. No swimming for me for a yet to be determined length of time. Boo.

I had blood work done this morning (thanks to Mr. Monkey who went with me and rubbed my foot and helped make sure I didn't pass out) to make sure my oven doesn't have a bun in it (I don't think it does, which is a bummer) before they do the X-ray. I feel already sort of annoyed and put out by this whole thing. It feels so dumb that I injured myself sleeping and now it is turning into a thing that requires multiple appointments, prescriptions and procedures.

I feel old and tired.

Reason #4357 I love my husband

This is the message I had waiting for my on my office voicemail last night:

"Hi honey, it's just me. I made an appointment for you to get a massage with **** on Thursday night at 6pm. Just wanted to check and make sure that works for you..."

Yay!

The neck is still killing me and I am living through the three busiest days of the work year right now, so a massage pretty much sounds like heaven right now.

He's a good egg, that Mr. Monkey.

Ow

So, this is what 29 feels like. Hmm.

I am distressed to report that mere days after my 29th birthday I somehow managed to strain my neck in such a way that, over a week later, still has me popping 800mg ibuprofen. I've been to the chiropractor (still not totally convinced I believe in them), I'm doing the stretches the yoga teacher in my office taught me, I've rested, I've iced and it still hurts. I think my next step is either the doctor or a really good massage therapist.

Please feel free to send get well vibes toward my neck.

Es la verdad

The mister and I have signed up for Spanish 101 starting in about two weeks. I'm looking forward to the prospect of trying to learn the language, mostly because I feel that my lack of Spanish knowledge is really holding me back from something important, something valuable.

I'm speaking, of course, of the fine art form known as the telenovela. Since we got rid of the cable, I find myself watching shows like "Dame Chocolate" and "Yo Amo Juan Querendon" and though I understand the general themes (attractive people in tight clothing doing shocking, romantic and/or dramatic things to each other) I feel that I must be missing subtle nuances.

I must also confess that I have fantasy that Mr. Monkey and I will pretend not to know each other and then one day I'll stand up in class (dressed in a skin tight yellow miniskirt and a blouse that demonstrates the full grandeur of my heaving bosoms) and announce, in Spanish, that I am pregnant and that he (insert dramatic music and my pointed finger at Mr. Monkey) is the father. The class will look shocked, someone will gasp and for a brief moment I will be the star on my very own telenovela.

I just have to learn the Spanish first.

Team Snickers Salad?

So, as you loyal blog readers (all 6 of you that put up with my casual posting schedule) know, I did the swimming part of a triathlon this summer and loved it. I enjoyed feeling all sporty, I like the competition, I want to do more. My dream is to some day do a triathlon all by myself, but my actuality is that I’m not quite ready for that yet. Not to fear though, because I think I’ve found myself another team triathlon to do.

A few weeks ago I went rock climbing (indoor of course, as I am not a crazy person) with my good buddies Kelly and Karna and, drunk with the success of our rocking climbing prowess, we formed an all girl team for a triathlon in October. I’ll swim, of course, Karna will bike and Kelly will run like she is going to star in a remake of Chariots of Fire. It should be fun, but there is a small hitch. Before we can enter, we have to name our team.

Naming the team should be easy, though a look at the roster of teams for the last triathlon reveals both a horrible number of boring names (“Team Smith Family”, “Team Blue”) and a large number of teams making puns out of the “tri” part of triathlon: “Moms who Tri”, “We Tri Harder”, “Teachers who Tri”, etc. Yuck.

So, what to do? Go for something obvious like “KKW”? Something descriptive like “Team Tall and Dutch” (Kelly supplies the tall, Karna and I bring the Dutch)? Share the monkey moniker and become “Team Monkey”?

Or…. We could name ourselves after the single best “salad” in the history of salads and become “Team Snickers Salad”.

Yep. Such a thing actually exists. Kelly recently spotted one in real life while Karna and I both grew up with it. We both also grew up in churches that had regular potluck suppers and very, very loose definitions of what constitutes a salad. Basically, a salad is anything made with vegetables, fruit, Jell-O, whip cream or some combination of the above. Adding a large quantity of candy bars does not, as one might expect, turn it into a dessert. I love it. I feel that not enough people realize that you can eat 6 Snicker bars and still be living on a mostly salad diet. Perhaps a triathlon is the best place to spread the message?

I definitely feel that my chances of winning a triathlon someday would be greatly improved if more athletes made Snickers salad a diet staple.