Killing toys, getting kisses, guarding the house, and begging for treats. All in a days work!
An Evening with Riggins
22 Wednesday May 2013
Author Archives: wendynewell
The Bird Flower
21 Tuesday May 2013
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My front porch get’s direct sunlight most of the day and during the summer months can reach a temperature similar to the surface of the sun. Add to that my lack of gardening skills (it’s not so much lack of skill as lack of patience) and the result is a beautiful pot garden of succulents. I actually love succulents. Not only are they pretty and hearty they seem … well … succulent.
I have a bird feeder stuck in the biggest flower-pot. It’s been there for years and I fill it up with food for the birds to come snack on. The thing about bird feeders is it takes awhile for our feathered friends to find them but once they do BACK OFF! They won’t stop eating until every last seed is gobbled up. My front porch is a 24 hour smorgasbord for a gaggle of beautiful red-headed/breasted birdies.
These birds will feast through wind, rain, and sun. They don’t flinch when Riggins sits just a couple of feet from them behind the screen door barking up a storm (not at them … they’ve made peace with each other). They use to scatter when I drove up or down the driveway until one brave chick (I assume based on her gumption and grit she is female) decided to take a stand and continued to peck away only glancing up for a second, looking at me from the corner of her eye as if to say, “keep on driving lady … there is nothing to see here.” Now most stay put when I go by. I’m not seen as a big enough threat to stop their non-stop meal.
Years ago I discovered if I purchased the right kind of food and placed the bird feeder just so, many of the seeds that don’t quite make it into a birds stomach will fall into the big planter. It now has a constant mulch of seed shells. If all the stars align then one or two sunflower seeds will drop down and then bloom into gorgeous sunflowers. Sunflowers are the biggest and best of all the flowers and I love that they are planted by the birds so I don’t have to even work at it!
I remember the first year this happened. The sunflower was HUGE. It was later in the summer, I remember because my cleaning lady (moment of silence for the fact that I am forced to clean my own house right now during my unemployment phase) would bring her son with her on cleaning day. He would plop himself in front of my TV and let me know which of the many children TV channels he would like to spend his morning watching. Once we met outside and he admired the big yellow flower. I explained how the birds had planted it, which he didn’t believe. We spent some time picking through the uneaten bird food to find a handful of sunflower seeds that we put in a bag then into his pocket so he could plant them when he got home. Sunflowers make everyone happy!
Right now I have one tiny sunflower and one bigger one on its way. The touch of beauty is the birds “thank you” for my feeding them!
Silent Protest
20 Monday May 2013
Posted in Riggins
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As you know, or surmised by the lack of posts last week, I was sick. Sicky sick sick. I really dislike when I don’t feel well. It throws me off my routine and there is nothing worse than getting back into a routine after spending two weeks switching between lying in bed and lying on the sofa. My goal was to get back to Runyon come hell or high water this past weekend. I didn’t care if I was still coughing or not. I was going to get off my tush and start moving!
Sat I got everything together and Riggins and I headed out to the hill. Once out of the car and on the road Riggins made it clear that he was not on board with my plan. He lagged behind and even came to a stop, looking at me as if to say, “you are crazy if you think I’m going a step further.” People who passed looked at him with sad eyes and then angrily at me as if I was forcing this poor sickly dog to take another step. Frankly, that may have been his plan. There is nothing he likes more than human attention. After a few steps I gave up and did some shorter and flatter paths around Runyon. Riggins couldn’t have been happier to do those. He galloped along as if nothing was wrong.
Sunday was a new day. TODAY we were going to make it up and down the hill on our normal path … or not. Again Riggins refused to move faster than a turtle taking the time to look up with pathetic eyes to each human who passed him. Again I gave up and did the secret loop. The secret loop isn’t really secret. Although the few times I’ve done it I’ve seen no more than 2 other humans on it. Runyon can be packed with people and the secret 
loop is still deserted. It’s possible that the reason for this is the big “no trespassing” signs you go by to get to the path. The signs I ignore. Frankly the signs confuse me. It’s obviously a path. There are park trash cans dotting it and someone even took the time to put plant markers up. Not to mention there isn’t just one but two park benches tucked away so you can sit and meditate in the silence (or if you are me force Riggins to come close so you can take your picture together). So really someone besides me is walking past those trespassing signs. It’s possible that it is public property kept up by the folks who own houses around there. My theory has always been to act like you belong and no one will question you. So that’s what Riggins and I did. At one point (although not in the no trespassing zone although obviously headed that way) a ranger cruised by and waved at me. I considered that the “all clear” signal and carried on. (Please note I in no way suggest that you should do something unlawful like pass no trespassing signs and/or ignore “dog on leash” signs. In fact if this is an officer of any kind then I deny that any of this story is anything but fiction.)
Today, Monday, I didn’t even try the hill. Instead Riggins and I walked around Silverlake 
and then went to that dog park. His favorite dog park. He grumbled a bit at first when he realized he wasn’t going to be able to play until we made the loop around the “lake” but that is normal behavior. By the time we turned the corner on the 1/2 point he was a full speed trying to get to the park part as soon as he possibly could. Once at the park he seemed to be happy as a little lark, canoodling with people and dopily following other dogs running in circles.
So the question becomes what was Riggins problem? Why did he refuse to go up the hill this weekend? I have lots of theories but since he doesn’t speak English he isn’t much help in clueing me in to which one is right. Here are my thoughts:
* He doesn’t feel well. He has shown some signs of having a tummy ache. Then he doesn’t. So this is a coin flip.
* He didn’t think I feel good enough. Possible. I went to Bar Method yesterday and, for the first time ever, had to leave class part way through. I knew I wasn’t doing well when I looked in the mirror during butt exercises and watched the color drain from my face right before things started going blotchy. Since the next step was to pass out I choose, instead, to lay my head on the bar and then exit to the sofa in the waiting room until I felt good enough to drive home. I’m going back today. I REFUSE TO GIVE UP. NEVER SAY DIE!
* He was being a brat.
* He wasn’t happy with the heat. I’m leaning toward this one. Riggins does not do well with the heat and although it wasn’t horribly hot this weekend we have had a few days of super heat and that puts him in “time out” mode. I always forget how much he gears down over the summer until the winter comes and he peps up again. His unhappiness with the heat seems to get more pronounced the older he gets. This may just be signs that he wants to stay far away from the hot.
* He misses his buddies. We haven’t had a dog on vacation with us this past week and Riggins seems a little mopey. In his heart Riggins is a pack dog and would be happiest if everyone he loved (human and dog) lived with us and all slept in a pile on my bed. He stepped it up on our walk when a group of dogs came by and took off to be part of the bunch. He is also super happy at the dog park where he can spend his time following dog after dog until he is distracted by a human he thinks needs to pet him.
Those are my theories. What do you think? Either way we are getting back on that hill this weekend (as long as it’s not too hot) and I am going to Bar Method all this week …. all without passing out and/or dragging a dog on a leash behind me.
CHALLENGE ACCEPTED!
Bananas Two Ways
15 Wednesday May 2013
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You guys I’m zonked. That’s the only word that accurately describes how I feel. Monday I gave up being sick and made my way to the doctor who prescribed me cough medicine and anitbiotics. I’m sure the cough medicine was prescribed due to my whining about non-stop coughing and inability to sleep. I may have even begged, “please help me sleep.” My doctor took that to heart and ordered me a cough medicine with a dash of sleeping potion. Honestly I can’t tell you what was dream or real over the past 48 hours. It’s all fuzzy. My whole body feels like it’s being pulled down by that lead blanket they put on you before taking x-rays.
I’m starting to feel better and I’ve held off taking the sleeping potion all day so I’m a little less foggy than I was yesterday. I may even be able to vacuum or do the dishes today. Nah … at the very least I can push around my lead filled wrists and fingers to write a blog post!
I’ve told you before I’m not a fan of bananas. In fact just saying the name makes me gag a little. Sadly bananas are good for you and I’m convinced that with a combination of greek yogurt, honey, applesauce and bananas you can pretty much sub out any of the bad things in any baked item for something healthier. Oddly enough I do like banana bread. Putting banana in bread form makes the evil mushy fruit edible, even delicious! When I was on Pinterest recently I found a couple of banana based recipes I thought I’d try. Hence this post. Bananas two was (the good way and the bad way).
The good way – Banana Oatmeal Cookies (aka Germ Cookies) – Monday I couldn’t think of a single thing I wanted to eat. Nothing sounded appetizing. That is when I noticed the bananas on my counter were at the “very ripe” stage and decided to whip up a batch of cookies. I’ve made these before so I knew that they would be worth the trouble of standing up and forcing myself into the kitchen. There are many versions of this cookie on Pinterest so I’m not sure who to give credit to. You actually don’t need a recipe. Mush up 2 bananas, add a cup of oats, mix, put blobs on a cookie sheet and back at 350 for 15 minutes. Done! The first time I added white chocolate chips and coconut (because it was in the same place as the white chocolate chips and seemed like a good idea). The second time I added another banana and another cup of oats, then when the cookies where almost done I plopped a chocolate melt on top. My goal was to have the melt, “melt” all over the cookie so that it was covered in chocolate. I used this method because I was lazy and zapped of energy from cough syrup. It didn’t work. You are better off using chocolate chips inside or melting the “melt” and dipping the tops of the cookies in the chocolate. Don’t worry. I still ate them! As I was mushing the bananas and mixing in the oats I kept coughing and sniffling hence the nickname, “germ cookies.” You don’t have to use that name if you don’t want to. I really like these cookies and I have essentially lived on them since Monday. I figure oats and bananas can’t make them that bad.
The bad way – Banana Pancakes – Seriously I’m almost embarrassed to write this up. It was such a giant fail it still leaves a bad taste in my mouth. The recipe for banana pancakes is easy. Take an egg, mix in a mushed up banana and pretend it is pancake batter. I’m shaking my head at myself as I write this. As I was mixing the two ingredients together it became clear to me that the only thing I was making was scrambled eggs with banana. There is NOTHING less appetizing than scrambled eggs with banana. As I cooked my “pancakes” I tried to put that thought aside and tell myself they were a delicious fluffy breakfast treat. I didn’t have any syrup around and putting powdered sugar on my mini banana omelets seemed like a bad idea so I dug in with my fork and a clear mind, then proceeded to move to the trash can, spit out everything in my mouth and dump the rest of the contents on the plate in after it. WORSE PANCAKES EVER. You can’t even call them pancakes. They are blatantly banana omelets and NO ONE thinks that is a good idea.
If you have “very ripe” bananas on your counter may I suggest turning them into cookies and skip the creepy pancake omelet.
Sick Day II
13 Monday May 2013
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(Dog) Mom’s Day
10 Friday May 2013
It’s that time of year. Allergies kick up, shedding requires more pushes of the vacuum around the house, the weather can’t decide if it’s winter or summer, and childless single woman over the age of 30 refill their Xanax prescription to prepare for their 24 hour Facebook blackout on Mother’s Day. I’m actually convinced Facebook has some sort of under the table deal with the anti-depressant folks. You can’t tell me since the people of the world have decided to post every minute of their day (me included) on a “wall” for the entire world to see, the rate of severe clinical depression hasn’t risen. I envy those who are social media blind and don’t know their Facebook from their Twitter. Their lives seem so uncomplicated and serene.
When Riggins was a puppy I had a dream that Josh (Anna’s oldest son, who at the time was very young), Riggins, and I were standing on a platform inside a volcano and I had to choose which life I could save. Riggins or Josh. I immediately chose Josh but it made me so furious. I was angry for a long while after that dream. Of course I would choose the human child but the fact that Anna’s adorable baby was more valuable than my adorable baby, and this really couldn’t be debated, pissed me off. Don’t try to debate it. You can’t. In that horrible Sophie’s choice you HAVE to pick the human child. There is no way that you can say a dog and a human child are equal. You just can’t.
So when I saw an article on Dogster (a dog blog site) titled, “Do ‘Dog Moms’ Count When It Comes to Mothers Day?” I was ready to get annoyed. It was on a dog blog so undoubtedly the answer was, “yes.” I was all ready to scream, “Stop giving us crazy dog people a bad name!” Let’s face it. I don’t need anyone giving me a lift to crazy town. I can manage my way there all by myself, thank you very much. I have to say after reading the article I, reluctantly, started changing my mind. Perhaps I was part of a population that could celebrate on Sunday.
Here are the arguments and counterarguments I came up with while reading:
* I never refer to Riggins as “my dog.” He’s always, “Riggins.” When we walk I yell out to him “sweet baby boy,” “sweets,” “baby,” “cutie boy,” “sweetheart,” etc. although I’d never call out “come my son.”
* Riggins will, very most likely, die before me. Some people put this in the “pro human” category to prove dogs aren’t “children.” I “only” take care of my baby for 13 years-ish while you get yours until he is 18. Who are we kidding. I’m 39 and my folks still take care of me. I see this as a huge negative. I don’t know a single “dog person” who wouldn’t love their baby to have the same life expectancy as a human. I’m a mom to a child that I know has a shorter life expectancy than me. It doesn’t make me love him any less.
* My baby can’t communicate. He can never tell me what hurts or how he is feeling. I have to figure that out on my own. I have insurance for him and he sees the vet more than I see my doctor. When Riggins had that unfortunate ear issue and Riggins couldn’t get comfortable on his bed I dragged a pillow into the office, where he was sleeping, and laid down next to him so I could be there if he needed me. His comfort often comes before my own.
* I can leave my baby unattended alone while “real” mom’s can’t (without having child protective services being called on them). I do admit that is pretty convenient but given a choice it would be a very hard decision. I wouldn’t mind taking him everywhere I went with me.
* The clincher to me was my attitude now that I’m a dog sitter. The dogs that stay with me aren’t treated like “dogs.” They are treated like someone’s baby. I even refer to them as such in emails and texts (see video below that I recently sent to Clover’s folks). Why was I allowing them to be “dog parents” and not me?
Riggins isn’t sitting in his kindergarten class pressing his paw into a round clay disc to gleefully hand me on Sunday but I think I’ll go get myself an ice cream as a celebration for me!
Happy Friday! (And Happy Mother’s Day to Mothers of humans and other living creatures.)
My First Quilt
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Riggins
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craft, cross stitch, homemade, needlepoint, quilt, Riggins, sampler
(I’m still sick. I don’t know what hurts more my throat or my chest. I’ve decided to ignore it. I’m sure that will work …)
I’m thrilled to announce that I (finally) finished my first quilt! I first mentioned this quilt to you in mid Feb so it’s been awhile. The majority of it was completed months back but the hand sewing of the binding (the edge of the quilt) took more time than I expected mostly because I had to keep it away from any dogs that would prefer they be on my lap vs. having me concentrate on sewing.
My mom has been hard core quilting for about a year now. She’s REALLY good at it. I’m lucky enough to own two of her pieces. She made me a tiny quilted center for my dining room table and a HUGE and beautiful quilt for my bed. That one isn’t even the biggest she has made. That amazes me. I can’t 
even imagine making any quilt bigger (or with so many more pieces) than the lap throw that I did!
When I showed my mom a picture on Pinterest of a quilt I liked she decided I should make it. At first glance it seemed pretty easy, for a quilt, so a perfect project for a novice quilter. There wasn’t really a pattern but the overall look was a tree bark that had a heart and initials “carved” into it. Of course it was a no brainer that I would change the initials to “Riggins.” (The original Pinterest poster now makes these on request. You can purchase at her Etsy store. Although I think it is kinda weird to have a stranger make something so personal for you it isn’t a bad price. You’d have to pay me closer to what Demi Moore’s character was offered in Indecent Proposal to make this again.) A trip to JoAnns yielded the perfect fabric including material for the back/binding that had brown leaves all over it. (We didn’t purchase enough and my mom was nice enough to go back and get more so I’d have enough strips to make the binding.)
The hardest part (and when I say hard I mean the part that most tested my patience) of quilting is the need for PERFECTION. Everything has to be perfect. The Wendy attitude of, “good enough” does not work. My mom helped cut and pin everything … thank goodness. She sewed on the heart to the main piece of fabric but after that refused to sew another thing despite my, sometimes constant, begging and whining. According to her I needed to be able to say that I made the quilt myself. So there you go! I can officially say that!
If you choose to make this quilt, and why wouldn’t you it’s adorable, I suggest making the bark pattern fatter. Meaning more space between stitches. It seemed like such a good idea to put them close together for more texture when I was zipping through the first few but about 1/3 of the way in I was done. By then it was too late. I couldn’t go from skinny 
to fat part way through my quilt! I had to grit my teeth and power through. (There was no pattern for the “bark.” My mom and I started to draw a pattern on with pencil until she looked at me and said, “You can just do this right? We don’t need to draw this on.” I guess so …) I’m pretty proud of the bark pattern. When I was nearly finished my Dad, clueless at what was happening, came in and said it looked like a tree. GREAT! PERFECT! GOAL ACHIEVED!
During this process I was reminded of something I’ve always known. If someone makes something for you (a quilt, afghan, needlepoint, etc.) they REALLY LOVE YOU. They have spent their time, money, energy, tears, and sometimes (in my case) blood to hand make something, a one of a kind something, especially for you. Cherish it. It’s special. I choose very carefully who I hand make presents for. I have to feel like they will appreciate it and the effort it took me. Personally I feel that a homemade gift is far superior to anything you can purchase at a store.
Now I can move on to my next project. I’m cross stitching a sampler as a gift. I realized, when describing it to friends, that many people don’t know what a “sampler” is. To be honest how I’m using the word and what it really describes is a bit different. Long ago, pre-patterns, women who were good at needlepoint would keep a “sampler” of their work. Anytime they invented a new stitch it would be added for reference. These samplers are a mix of different types of threads and needlepoint styles. They would often include using the stitches in an alphabet along with basic patterns and numbers. These were passed down in families and eventually seen as art and framed and hung in homes and museums. A bit later a “sampler” became a learning tool for young girls. In school needlework was an important subject and each girls “sampler” showed off what she had learned. These also often contained the alphabet along with quotes, sayings, etc. Apparently you could judge a girls status based on her sampler, skill (financial ability to get lessons), and quality of fabric and thread. Laura from Little House on the Prairie most likely had a sampler.
Today when I say sampler I am referring to a needlework pattern that contains the alphabet and sometimes numbers (Although I’d consider a “Home Sweet Home,” “Home established …”, or other such sayings samplers as well). My mom made the sampler that hangs in my entry way right now. This is its third house/apartment it has been hung up in and I love it. A handmade sampler, to me, is a symbol of a loving and happy home.
There are patterns for very simple samplers. Much like those girls on the prairie it’s a great place to start if you want to get into needlepoint.
Sick Day
08 Wednesday May 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. It really pisses me off. Clover deserves to hike Runyon and run free through the flowers. Instead I’m going to have to force myself out of bed and take Riggins and her to the dog park. Not nearly as much fun for any of us.
I’ve missed my last two days of Bar Method class and today isn’t looking great. I despise being sick.
I blame the crazy weather flux in LA this past week. Thursday it was shorts and tank tops hot. Monday it was pouring rain. I suppose it didn’t help that I took the dogs to Runyon Monday morning rain be damned. You know what Clover likes more than being wet? Being wet and muddy. She was so happy!
I hope I feel better tomorrow so Clover can have more Runyon days before she goes home.
The Gentle Giant
07 Tuesday May 2013
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Don’t hug a dog. That is one of the top rules of dog and human etiquette if you don’t want to loose part of your nose in a dog’s teeth. Understandably the dog sees the move as aggressive (or if he/she is well socialized a move to wrestle). Kisses are another no-no. What moron would put their face up to a dog’s nose (shamelessly raising my hand).
I hug and kiss dogs. Every single dog I’ve ever dog sit or know well I’ve hugged. I get right up in their face and give them kisses and a snuggle. I don’t suggest you do that. Per the rule it just isn’t smart. And yet … Riggins gets cuddles almost every morning. He will come to my bed and wimper until I say, “come up and get kisses.” He jumps up and positions himself so I can drape my arm over him. I’ve curled up with Morgan in the Gogreve’s guest bedroom. Even the killer, Lousy, wanted to snuggle whenever possible.
90% of what I do would give Cesar Millan a heart attack. Cesar’s dog etiquette follows the main rule that a dog is a dog. Not your baby. A dog. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! As if. Riggins puppy trainer told me how he gave his dog his own steak every now and then. He also fully admitted his dog had separation anxiety as the dog went EVERYWHERE with him. His reasoning is that his dog’s life is short so f*ck it. He was going to do anything he could to make his dog’s life the best possible. Hazzah!
In general the bigger the dog the shorter the dog’s average lifespan is. This is proof positive there is no God. Big dogs are almost always the biggest hearted lovers you could ever meet.
Case in point … Clover. Clover is a golden retriever mix (mixed with something big) who is staying with Riggins and me for a while. I call her the Gentle Giant. She is about 35 pounds bigger than Riggins with fur that feels like crushed velvet (and is all over my house … I just vacuumed yesterday and my hall/bedroom looks like it has a white fur rug over it) and a giant fluffy squirrel tail. Clover spends our time at home laying in the middle of my house where the bedroom door and kitchen door meet the hallway. No matter where I want to go it requires me to step over Clover (usually bending down to give her a smooch). The best thing ever is hugging her. I lie down and use her as a full body pillow. This poor dog doesn’t get a normal Wendy hug she has to endure a full body hug!
I’ve walked the neighborhood with Clover and Riggins only once so far and every single person was scared crapless of the terrifying creatures at the end of the leashes I was carrying. Riggins and Clover where much more interested in getting to the many squirrels we saw scurrying up the trees, than tearing any humans to bits. You have a much better 
chance of getting nipped by a chihuahua then Clover!
Give me a big dog any day. Not that I don’t like small dogs too. I do. It’s no secret that if I had a little dog he would come EVERYWHERE with me in a fancy little purse. Poor thing. Imagine how tortured he would be. When it comes to hugs, comfort and overall goofy happiness I pick big dogs. Big dog hugs are the best! Cesar is missing out.
The dreaded word: Exercise – Guest Blogger
06 Monday May 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
I realize you may be sick of me preaching about how great Bar Method is and forcing you to look at a zillion pictures of Riggins and me. Today I decided to mix things up and have you listen to my good friend Michelle talk about her exercise of choice and show you pictures of her and her dog, Buddy! Recently I went with Michelle (and her friend Olga — more about her in the post below) to a dance (salsa-y) aerobic class and it was a blast. Generally during my exercise time I tend to put my head down, concentrate, breathe and focus for the hour or so. Michelle may be onto something with the whole “have fun while you are doing it” idea! I’ll pass it to Michelle to tell you more about her work-out philosophy —-
The dreaded word: Exercise
First, let me clarify. I don’t dread exercise itself. I actually enjoy physical activity. But I want it to be FUN. I want it to be something I look forward to doing. I don’t want to ever feel like it’s something I have to do. Simply put, I don’t want it to feel like “exercise”.
My entire life, I’ve always done some sort of physical activity (note that I’m not using the word “exercise”). Growing up, we lived outside of town so if I wanted to see my friends outside of school, I typically rode my bike. In high school, I dabbled in track and basketball until I found my favorite sport – soccer. In college, my physical activity consisted of walking to and from class, and up and down State Street to the various bars and fraternity parties (it was a pretty big campus so there was a LOT of walking).
Michelle & Buddy – Photo taken by Lori Fusaro
But later in life, in my 30s, I had to come up with something new. I always enjoyed being outside. And I grew up with animals. So I decided it was time to get a dog – THAT would ensure physical activity – I would take the dog on daily walks! For the next 13 years, my beloved dog Buddy and I went on regular walks – about a mile and a half up to 5 times a week. But as Buddy grew older he started to slow down a bit, and at the same time I entered my 40s. Daily walks weren’t going to cut it. I needed to change up my exercise routine or my waistline was going to start – and continue – to expand.
One day, one of my employees suggested I try Zumba. “What’s Zumba?” I asked. She explained that it’s like aerobics but with variations of Latin dance, usually with Latin music. Well, that sounded pretty good to me! I love to dance! Another appealing aspect was that Zumba is offered in a class setting. I live alone, and at work I sit in a private office with limited interaction with others. It can be very isolating, almost depressing at times.
I wasted no time getting online to find the nearest Zumba class (www.Zumba.com). Lucky for me, classes were offered at a gym only a few blocks from my house. I could request a free 7-day pass and take at least 3 classes for FREE! Sounded good to me! Three classes later, I was hooked and joined the gym.
To me, Zumba is like a dance party with your girlfriends sans the tequila. (Yes, the classes are mostly women – men should get a clue! Hot, fit women in tight workout gear swinging their hips!)
Michelle and Olga
But the most unexpected benefit of this “exercise” was the friendships I formed in the classes. At my age, most of us already have an established circle of friends; our closer inner circle and our more casual extended circle. We’re not necessarily looking to add to those circles. I never would’ve expected that within a year I’d meet someone who I now consider one of my closest friends. Olga and I are around the same age, both single, love travel, dance, good food and wine, and live just two blocks from each other. How great is that? We’re even planning a trip to Europe in the fall.
Having friends in class REALLY helps motivate me to go on those few days when I’m just not in the mood. I look forward to dancing with them, sweating with them, and often going for coffee or a cold drink after class.
I guess the moral of my story is: “Exercise” doesn’t have to be a dreaded activity. It’s all a matter of finding something you genuinely enjoy – walking your dog, dancing with friends – that achieves the same results yet doesn’t feel like “exercise”. And who knows what unexpected benefits you’ll find along the way!
Me Myself & Riggins 