10 Days with Gwyneth Paltrow’s Trainer, Days 3-6

In case you want context:

Day 3 Report: Skipping breakfast before my workout is an error. I read a scientific study that proves you can get some of the benefits of exercise by simply imagining you’re exercising. I adopt this plan. I lay there, panting, and imagine working out for about half the routine. “These sit ups in my head are so taxing! My psychological form on these pikes is unbelievable!”

I’m not even sore the next day. Screw you, Science.

Day 4 Report: Huh. I can sort of manage a crippling Pilates position, which I had previously believed Tracy Anderson was achieving through CGI. I no longer feel angry at Tracy Anderson herself, just specific parts of her body — specifically her abs and upper arms.

Day 5 Report: I get through the first section without keening or modifying the exercises to suit the needs of an 80 year old woman who has just given birth.

Day 6 Report: If I ignore the searing pain, I am able to lay on the floor, and lift my legs at a right angle to my body while reaching to the ceiling to touch my toes. I do this more than once. I am increasingly angry at Tracy Anderson’s abs and upper arms.

Progress Report:

Obstacles:
This project was supposed to take ten days. On some level, I suppose it will, but there has been guilt.

Successes:
I’m working out twice a week more than I was.
Without changing my diet at all, I’ve lost two pounds. I love you, buttered bread and red wine.
My stomach is visibly more muscular.
I am no longer mortified to be on my hands and knees whimpering while my husband checks his email at the desk next to me.

Comedic Ass Sniffing

Am I a stupid person? I’m not a stupid person. I read all the books you’re supposed to read, I keep abreast of current events, I can find my home state on a map. So if I admit you’re smarter than me, will you do something for me?

Please limit yourself to one joke per evening that forces half the group to go heads down on their iPhones in feverish Wikipedia searches, while the rest of us pretend to laugh uproariously in feigned recognition of your obscure reference point.

Okay, thanks.

40 Reasons I Love Bryan Mason

Happy 40th birthday, Bryan! A few of the reasons I adore you:

1. On our first trip to Argentina, you were excited about my suggestion that we spend two hours a day of our vacation in private tango lessons.
2. When I’m upset, you infuriate me by cracking jokes until I laugh.
3. You took me on a road trip with our 5-week old baby.
4. You have a steel-plated backbone.
5. On one of our first dates, you took me on a surprise kayak camping trip. You packed candles and a tablecloth.
6. You make a mean chili.
7. You cried over our vows.
8. If it’s important, and you say you’ll do it, you do it.
9. When someone handed you the microphone unexpectedly at one of Hillary Clinton’s rallies, you introduced a stage full of political bigwigs, one by one, without a list of their names.
10. You’re humble about your smarts.
11. It takes you about an hour to wrap a present so it meets your standards.
12. You’re a fighter.
13. Your resume is so absurd, it reads like fiction.
14. You’re helpful.
15. You taught me to respect bourbon.
16. You look incredible in a suit. Or a white cotton undershirt.
17. You’d be just as comfortable chatting with a Nobel Laureate or the drunkest guy at the dive bar.
18. You have more energy than anyone.
19. You can’t wait for the new episode of Dancing with the Stars.
20. You’re one of the kindest people I know.
21. When you’re phone rings, and the caller ID reads unknown, you assume it’s the Secret Service because it almost always is.
22. You like to help.
23. Once you’re in the shower, there’s no telling when I’ll see you again.
24. You have a lovely voice.
25. You married our friends in English, German, and Chinese.
26. You always smell good.
27. You take me seriously when I ask you how my makeup looks.
28. You love to celebrate.
29. You drink the water, eat at roadside stands, sample charcuterie in a village with 12 houses, and you never get sick.
30. You make things go.
31. When you arrive at the bar, you’re there to close it.
32. You are snuggly.
33. When you dip me, I know you won’t drop me.
34. You like to make things.
35. You’re an optimist.
36. I have never had to ask you to do the dishes.
37. You love to swim.
38. When I asked you to stop pointing out coiffed and professionally lit ex-girlfriends while we were watching TV, you did.
39. You can’t stay mad.
40. If our little boy grows up to be exactly like you, I’ll be proud.

Wikirank Makes Wikipedia More Funner

Attention reference-guide addicts! My genius husband’s company, Small Batch Inc., just built an awesome tool called Wikirank, and you should go play with it. Wikirank shows you which Wikipedia topics are the most popular, and which ones are seeing the most action on a particular day.

It also lets you compare topics against one another and embed pretty graphs on your Internet website, like so:

Monkey, Robot, and Ninja on Wikirank

http://e.wikirank.com/wr.js

As you can see, monkeys are kicking robot ass, but ninjas are still a contender. I feel smarter already.

This One Time

I’m laying on my back with needles in my limbs, trying to relax. The ambient music in the acupuncturist’s office is massage/day spa/yoga music — the kind where the singer repeats a single foreign phrase endlessly, and when she’s done, she does it again. The problem with such music (she said, as though there were only one problem) is that my brain cannot focus when there’s something to translate. Of course I have no idea what language this is (which somehow makes me feel slightly racist?), and so my brain approximates.

I breathe in through my nose; out through my mouth.

“BANDCAMP!”

In through my nose…

“Bandcaaaaaaaaamp!”

…out through my mouth.

“BANDCAMP!”

Awesome.

First Kiss at the Junior High Dance

We were twelve. He was born on the same day as me, at the same hospital, delivered by the same doctor. When we finally met, I was the anxious new girl in his eighth grade homeroom.

He was shorter than me, a lot shorter, like all the boys back then, and neither one of us was cool. Apparently I was a little less cool than him, because we’d been meeting at a neighborhood park for a while, and he wanted to keep it a secret.

We were at a school dance, and it was the last song — a saxophone-laden ballad by George Michael. We’d been hugging at the end of every slow song, so I was confused when he pushed me back a little and then leaned toward me.

His kiss landed on my cheek, on the soft skin just below my eye and above my cheekbone. He barely touched me, and half my face lit up.

Walking out to the car where my mom was waiting, I could feel that spot glowing. Mom took me to the McDonald’s drive-thru for soft-serve butterscotch sundaes with crushed peanuts on top. I was uncharacteristically silent, every bit of me distilled into that one point where his lips had brushed me. Lovely.

Two Words: Author

Please join me in kissing Mrs. Heather B. Armstrong on the mouth, as she officially became an author today. Behold!

It Sucked and Then I Cried: How I had a Baby, a Breakdown, and a Much Needed Margarita

Heather is one of the hardest working people I know, so it’s hardly surprising that the book is already a success. In fact, she’s currently two spots below the President of the United States on the Amazon non-fiction rankings. Let’s see if we can do something to improve those numbers, shall we?

Somewhere in New York, there is a very pregnant woman jumping up and down on her hotel bed in her underwear. She may not be able to drink right now, but come June, there’s a case of Champagne with her name on it. In the meantime, the Internet can raise a glass in her honor.

You did it, girl.

10 DAYS WITH GWYNETH PALTROW’S TRAINER, DAY 2

I hurt in places of which I was not previously aware.

10 Days with Gwyneth Paltrow’s Trainer, Day 1

So, last month, I had some surprising success with that video by Gwyneth Paltrow’s trainer, Tracy Anderson, and then I had emergency oral surgery. My mouth has finally stopped throbbing when I move (party at my place!), so I’m trying this again. I’ll start with five days now, five days after SxSW.

Day One report:

I move the coffee table and shove aside train sets, Hotwheels, Thomas DVD cases. Soon I have almost enough room to unroll a yoga mat and get to work.

“Now we’re going to start with your warmup,” Tracy Anderson says. My warmup skills are radiant. I’m a warmup Olympian, you guys. I’d post video, but I fear it would be too emotional for you.

“Now we’re warmed up, so we’re going to go on to abs,” she says. Abs! Yes! Let’s do this! I continue to dazzle through this section. I imagine wading into a mountain stream to wash the laundry against my abs. However, there’s a wooden train track digging into my shoulder, and the tiny little bit of searing pain starts to grate after three hours or so.

“OK, we’re going to continue on with our abs, but I want you to grab a weight this time,” Tracy Anderson says. OK. But… I think we just did abs, Tracy Anderson. You were right here, can’t you feel the burning? No? Oh.

Me neither.

“The next part of the abdominal series is the piking series,” Tracy Anderson says. What? Oh, it’s on Tracy Anderson. Through this section, I punish you by whimpering in disapproval. “This is the most difficult series for the abs” Tracy Anderson continues. I whack my right hand against a miniature xylophone, and glare at Tracy Anderson through narrowed eyes. Her tiny dancer body still fits entirely within my millimeter of vision. I stub my left toe on an abandoned Tonka truck. My millimeter of vision begins to swim.

“Now we’re going to move into challenging your abs in yet another way,” Tracy Anderson says. This is where I black out. There is a light, and I move toward it. There are apple fritters here.

Traveling with Kids

http://blip.tv/play/gew+8OtykOIX

This video is a sentimental favorite, because both the girls are real-life friends. Also, Heather talks about vomiting on a plane after the wedding where she and I first met in real life. Karen Walrond of Chookooloonks is new to our crew, and you will like her. She’s got that loyal, responsible, but quit-your-law-job-and-follow-your-dreams thing going on.

As for traveling with kids, you may remember that I wrote up some mom travel tips when Hank was tiny. Here’s my post 12 Tips for Flying with a Baby, and my OCD treatise on getting through airport security 9 Tips for Quick Airport Security Screening with a Baby.