Holy Mackerel

I am going through a bit of a downward spiral these past few days. I've gone from feeling pretty damn good about myself and my achievements to feeling kind of like, "WTF EVER possessed me to even THINK I could be a goddammed paramedic?!!", except with many more swear words. My emotions are all over the place, and although I kind of know this is just the way it is, it still sucks mightily. I had a test pretty much every day last week, and I did pretty well in every one of them, except the last one, which was the only physical one. Of course. The one I knew would be the most challenging. At least my expectations are spot on. I had to do four lifts (as in, lifting actual people who have actual weight), and I had to do them using proper body mechanics (meaning, don't do anything stupid and hurt your back, stupid). I did two of them quite well, and two of them, not so much. I get a second chance at the end of this week, but just the fact that I couldn't do what wa

My days go something like this: I wake up to the sound of the kids getting ready to go to school. Usually they're very quiet and well behaved, so that I can turn over and go back to sleep for a few minutes. Finally, I groggily get up and put in my contact lenses so that I don't pee all over the floor by mistake. My process-of-elimination skills aren't so great. Then I brush my hair, which is mega important, because if you don't start the day with brushed hair, your day will suck. This is for real, guys. Believe me. Brushed hair = awesome day. Then I go downstairs and promptly make myself a big cup of coffee. Not as important as the brushed hair stage, but almost. And then I either get dressed and go to school, or I sit down with my mega-pile of science books, and I study, read, and study some more. Then I practise lifting people off the ground, putting stretchers into make-believe ambulances, and study some more. This is now my life. Yes, I get to see my family e

Me: Holy crap! Mr. Handsome: What? Me: I'm reading all about sweat glands here, and I just found out something I probably would rather not know. Mr. Handsome: *Silence* Me: Hello? Did you hear what I said? Mr. Handsome: Yes. I'm just not sure I want to hear this. Me: Oh, you do... Mr. Handsome: *Long pause* Okay. Me: Did you know that the milk my breasts make are actually sweat glands???!!! How cool is that?! Mr. Handsome: Like I said, I didn't want to hear this.

There I was, wheezing, as I tried to keep up with everyone else. Give up I did not, however. I carried on, trudging wearily, slapping one tired foot in front of the other on the hard cement floor, focusing on the prize: my dignity. Clearly, I didn't get the prize, because I have no dignity left . There I was, in my gym class, which all we paramedic-wannabes have to take in an effort to get into good enough shape to be able to lift and carry ill people and equipment, all while eating an ice cream cone, or possibly that salami sandwich that you just found stuffed in the side pocket of your pants. You know, guys, it's not easy keeping up with a class full of mostly 20-somethings, especially when your mammary glands keep hitting your knees. There they all are, gleefully skipping around the room as if they're in a field of daisies and they're lazily making their way toward their lover. And there I am, my ass slapping the backs of my thighs as I grunt my way around the

So, it's like this, guys. I'm old, decrepit, and feeble. And yet, it kind of feels good to hurt, if you know what I  mean. Do you? Or am I just fumbling along, trying to make sense of my feelings again? What I mean, I think, is that, despite my sore muscles from my Fitness Till Death class, and my newest class -- Lab -- whereby we get to lift each other off the floor and simultaneously rip our pants from fore to aft, I'm loving the pain, the feeling of muscles regenerating, the knowledge that my body (and mind) are getting stronger with every day. Trying to remain positive, y'all. Bear with me. On another positive note, I had a birthday yesterday. Yeah. Just in case I didn't already realize I was old, now I'm older. Despite that unfortunate fact, I had a wonderful day, as always. Mr. Handsome and the kids have "The Knack" and somehow just know how to make my day perfect. Em had stayed up late Saturday to put up decorations and she made my b

So, let me just say that that thing called Fitness Class should actually be called The Class That Throws You Into a Fatal Chokehold And Slowly Kills You. Because that is what happened yesterday. So yes, I am writing to you from the Land of the Dead. Trust me. I exaggerate not. My arms, they will not move, my legs are like rubber, and I feel like I walked out onto a busy street and got hit by two milk trucks, a semi full of lobsters, and about 30 motorcycles, who obviously are part of a gang (because why else would they have run me over, and why else would the leader of the group have a monkey on his shoulder?) If that didn't make sense, don't worry. I'm dead, remember? Dead people don't make a lot of sense at the best of times. Anyway. I actually woke up the next morning and was not as sore as I thought I would be, by which I mean I could actually move my limbs without screaming out in excruciating, ear-blistering pain. Which, to me, means I'm actually in bette

As you read this, I am in my first class at college, looking very out-of-place and rather nervous as I look around the room and notice that I could be anyone's grandmother. Update: OK, maybe I was a tad too quick with that last statement, because as I was getting ready to go to my first class (gym/fitness), my bowels exploded and I ended up sitting on the toilet for more than half the class. To which, Mr. Handsome would reply, "Typical." And he'd be right. So much for my fitness class. Well, at least my bowels are in shape. I think. The rest of my first day was a little less eventful, shall we say? I had Psychopathology, which is right up my alley (I could have written the text, yo), and then I had Anatomy & Physiology, which is just another way of saying the class looks and examines the naked body. Again, right up my alley. And guys, I won a prize! Why? Because I am the definition of awesome, that's why. Actually, it's because we had this really odd