ozwords logo   amanda's precipice title
    Precipice - Tuesday December 10th 2002




The rest of it is a deadly moving force, cutting through water with it's massivity.

Message left on Renee's voice mail at work "Hello, it's me, just looking for the deadly moving force."

Message left on my home answering machine "Hello, this is the deadly force cutting with massivity, call me back"

Hee! Also, Renee has a new design, very shiny and metallic, tres cool.

Not our tree, the tree at the swim center. Makes me almost want to get a fake tree, so we can have it up this early. We're in the real tree crowd, which means we don't get it much before 2 weeks before Christmas.

Bonus, a shot of Adelaide and our glorious 1960's pink bathtub. Which matches our equally glorious pink 1960's toilet. Adelaide sits outside the shower while I'm in it, and howls. She doesn't do this while Jeff is in the shower, just me. As soon as I'm done, she's in there, trying to work out the appeal of the place.

Charlie, sitting on my chest, in bed. He comes in for a smooch each night, either Jeff or I, whichever chest is free. Yep, he's as close as the photo suggests.

A very sleepy kitten wondering when I'm going to stop taking pictures so she can sleep.



July 6th ended on July 4th, without me telling what was also good about that day.


I went swimming. In bathers. Without a t-shirt. I don't think that combination of things has happened in quite a while. We last had our own pool operational Summer '99, and I think I didn't even wear just bathers then.



Stinking hot day it was, this years July 4th. It was at Jeff's brother and sister in law. They're hereafter referred to as BP & CP respectively, and linked in that way once I get the cast list firmed up. I'm using initials. Someone I read does that in their journal, and it seems to be the best way. Close enough to their real name so I know who I'm talking about, but not close enough that Googling their whole names will come to me. Any other option, like giving them fake names, means I'll print this out, and 20 years down the track, I'll be "Who's Gary and Carole? Did we know a Gary and Carole?" I tried writing a journal in code, in my teens, and I lost the legend and was screwed, so not with anything more complicated than initials.

CP let me know she had an extra pair of bathers, she'd bought them for a friend of hers coming, but she hadn't liked them, too much cleavage. I'm not so much bothered by the cleavage aspect, as I am by the rolls of fat aspect, and the ever ballooning belly aspect. This is family, so I figure, if anyone pokes fun, I'm licensed to thwack. It's a size 18, and I've been shimmering on the edge of a size 20, so I'd laughed when CP had said it probably would be too big for me. I try on the suit, and it fits well, better than anything I could have spent several sweaty and depressed hours squirming into until those hideous fluro lights.

When I walk out onto the patio, Jeff smiles and whistles and says I look great. That's why I keep him around, you know, I could wear a gunny sack and he'd think I looked good. Or at least has the sense not to say I look like crap if he knows I'm feeling vulnerable, smart as well as sweet.

I swam for a few hours, just paddling about and playing with the kids and the dog. CP has a portuguese water dog, so the dog has no fear of taking flying leaps into the pool to retrieve. Mom had been taking deep water walking classes at the local fitness center, and showed me some of the moves.

Turned out to be a convergence of events. An unexpectedly well fitting bathing suit, a couple of play moves in the pool, me starting to be concerned about my general fitness, and the willingness of the local fitness center to not only take me on half way through a session, but allow me to catch up some of the lessons (Tuesday and Thursdays, 1 hour each, 6-7PM) by going to the morning, cue to now, 6 months later, and I've been going regularly at least once a week. For the first 6 week session, it was three times (they have a morning session, Tuesday's and Thursdays, 8:30 to 9:30AM) a week, then into the next session and back to twice weekly.

For the first session and a half, I was adamant, absolutely nothing was to come above these classes. Not the theatre group meetings; they're 2nd and 3rd Tuesdays, 7-8PM, and I'd just show up late, not family gatherings, not social events, not work, not nothing. I'm a little more flexible about that now, now the exercise has become a habit. I can miss a session if the theatre group absolutely needs me there at 7 (has happened once or twice), and the sessions coincided with major snow days (cancelled) and Thanksgiving, without getting out of the groove, and stop going. I've never missed two in a row, that's my rule, and I allowed myself to miss a day when Syd died, but I've not gone just because I couldn't be fagged.

I've noticed improvements in my general health and well being. I can run from my desk in the basement, up the 13 stairs to my kitchen, round the corner into the lounge room, grab the parcel that the UPS guy has left there, run back downstairs and be opening it at my desk, and I won't be wheezing. I can sit in the car on an hour long drive, and when I get out, I'm not frozen and creaky like someone three times my age might be.

I've gone down a jeans size. Whee! I'd been wearing an American size 20, which is not a good look for a 5 foot woman, and I'm now a size 18. I still have to buy the petite sizes, cause I suffer from duck's disease [arse too close to the ground], but I'm a full size less than when I started. The size 20 jeans hang on me now, deeply baggy all over. I haven't lost a pound, but I've also noticed my t-shirts fit me better. I can wear a Large t-shirt, and it tucks in to my rediscovered waist. I'm not skinny, but I look better, and more importantly, I feel better.



A brief tour of my bit of the fitness center. I only use the pool, not the exercise room. This pool is heated to 85F (29F) all year round, as they offer certified American Arthritis classes. This is from the entrance way.   I'm just a program member, so I pay $10 yearly, and then pay $40 for an 8 week session. That's $2.50 an hour class, which is reasonable. This is the view from just outside the women's change rooms.
The sign on the door of the aforementioned Women's locker room. I'm impressed with their ADA (American's with Disabilities) compliance, note the braille signage also.   The always hot showers. The corridor between the pool and the locker room is badly insulated, so in winter, it's about 30 degrees colder than the pool. I always shower here before I go home, get the chlorine out of my hair.
This is the locker I like to get, on the corner right next to the sink. That's my freebie canvas bag,from one of the animal charities I donated to. I have a kit, that I keep in one place, so I don't forget my; underwear, bathers, scrunchies, towels, face scrub, shampoo, conditioner, moisturiser, plastic bag (for the wet towel), floatation belt and combination lock   Self portrait of me in my new bathers. Not the bathers from July, the elastic in those died a couple of months later, eaten up by the pool chlorine. These are a Lands End jobbie, bought online, which is a first. I like to buy bathers when they're in the overstock area, so I pay $39 instead of $54, for this one. Optimistically, I also bought a size 16.



I'm going to borrow from Dorothy R, with my bulleted list of things I should put in an entry at some point;

  • Jeff's birthday and the three cakes
  • Syd
  • Plin Con
  • My birthday
  • China Outlet & Garage
  • Saving the house next door from burning down
  • Debt collectors pissing me off
  • Christmas Parades, gallons of hot chocolate and more house fires
  • 3 years of photos from Walmart
  • My amaazing deals at the Goodwill.


line break flourish

Updated 17 December, 2002

Copyright Amanda Page, 1996-2002