Boot Camp 2019

I am currently lucky enough to live in a climate that allows for all-weather outdoor workouts, so for the past 18 months, I've managed to Embrace Winter!TM.  But this time around, I'm sincere.*

My running group runs in all (London) weather:  sun, wind, rain, rain, rain, and a little bit of snow.  But mostly rain.  Early on, before I found these amazing women, I found local trim trails, and was always impressed by the fitness level and creativity of their superfit users.  I still am, in fact.  There are always people working out at parks, with trainers and groups or alone, with boxing pads, jump ropes, elastic straps, and TRX equipment, no matter how cold and wet the day.  It's wonderful.

My first experience with "boot camp" was circa 1997.  I worked as a fitness trainer, and the gym started to offer a boot camp-style fitness class for the lunchtime exercisers.  I recall the instructor wearing camo-print pants, the music being louder than normal, and the participants shouting "Camp!" as loudly as they could whenever she yelled, "Boot!"  There were pushups, burpees, jumping on and off of aerobic steps... it looked like fun.

About ten years later, I had the opportunity to teach some boot camp-style classes myself, and I liked them; they were simple but tough, with no tricky choreography, full of body-weight, multi-joint movements and a disconcerting-yet-addictive mix of sadism and camaraderie.

A typical (if there is such a thing) class can be done anywhere, with as little or as much equipment as the instructor likes.  Calisthenics are foundational; here you learn how to work with the body you've got and how to make it work for you, with pullups, pushups, situps and squats.  There are challenges, as well, to manipulate very large objects: running with eight other people while holding a giant rope above your head, or climbing over and under a really big log come to mind as "two things that you wouldn't even question at boot camp but probably wouldn't float any other time". 

Tire flipping.  Park bench step-ups.  Relay races. 

Boot camp goes back to not only the basics of fitness (strength, endurance, flexibility, agility and balance), but also the games that children play and the movements that they do naturally, just because they're kids.

Last May, one of the runners suggested meeting with her trainer for a boot camp session.  I agreed to try it out, and four of us showed up at a local park.  Week after week, rain or shine, Shane put us through our paces, quickly sized up our strengths and weaknesses and made sure we paid for them (for me, an inflexible lower back and a weak core).  We did rugby drills and medicine ball slams.  We did pullups and bear walks.  As the summer drew to an end, he approached me to ask if I would be interested in taking on some classes with his studio, Brick Fit House.  I was in the middle of refreshing my fitness certifications to UK standards, and had insurance, and there it was. 

So now, I'm running my own boot camp again, my way.  We currently wear layers and mittens, but we're still there, every week, getting #fittertogether.


Join us, Thursdays at 10 am.

For more details: 
Twitter: @kapowfit 
Insta: @kapow.fit
www.brick-fit.co.uk





*unlike past Embrace Winter!TM attempts which, as I may have mentioned, may have been done only to impress a boy (or two).

Fancy Ladies and London Snow

All grown up!

Our beautiful Tamsin Toonamint recently celebrated the big 0-5, and did it in style.  She made her theatre debut in a small/tiny/wee production of Beauty and the Beast, and then was properly feted by eight of her closest friends at her birthday party.  We went swimming at the local pool and dined on pizza and cake.  Wonderful!

Yes, the 5-year-old is wearing makeup.  I felt it important that her eyes should "pop" under the stage lighting. 
(TLC, call me!)

The proud birthday girl/unicorn in her birthday finery.

We were also struck by a terrible snowstorm! (by London standards!)  (kaff)  The kids pulled out their new snowsuits (well, new to two) and splashed off to the park, where they built their first (possibly only) snowman of the winter!  He was mostly leaves.  The snow melted by that evening, but it was pretty and very Christmassy while it lasted. 

The Hufflings Three and furry sidekick, whom Fis has re-named "Kenny Zoggins".

I've been told to expect temperatures between 0 and 10, and lots of drizzly rain for the next few months.  Upside:  no shoveling!  Downside:  lots of drizzly rain. 

We are looking forward to some proper Canadian snow in a few weeks.

December seems to be a very busy month for cocktail events here.  With the help of some brilliant babysitters, we have been able to get all dressed up and mingle with, well, complete strangers for the most part, but it's fun.  I have developed quite the taste for wee little hors d'oeuvres (ingested in bulk), served by fancy waiters.*  This was taken at the end of the evening - imagine how stunning I must have looked when we first arrived!   (Obvious answer:  even more stunning.)

* We usually have to stalk the good ones.  Chris followed the pigs in blankets server for a good 10 minutes, much to the amusement of some, well, complete strangers.

Vive le Quebec

Big day today:  I brought the three munchkins to the Snowflake Kingdom at Jacques Cartier park, in Hull.  We didn't bring our passports, but bravely drove the 6 minutes from our house, over the bridge, and found a nice, free parking spot just a short walk from the festivities.  

I didn't see the foreshadowing when I pulled up in a snowy (about 6 inches) section, behind a snowed-in car, backed up a bit to make sure I'd be able to get out, and a Jeep pulled up beside me.  A man jumped out, and said, "Are you stuck?"  And I smiled and said, "No.  I'm in a Volvo!"  He waved, said, "That's why I love my Jeep!"  We high-fived (ok, we didn't really, but it would have been totally appropriate), and off he went.  

I got the kids out, loaded up Miss Tamsin into her chariot (a wee little blue sled that had once belonged to the Vaughnster), and off we went.  

We go to the Snowflake Kingdom every year.  There's a small jungle gym, some ice slides, some Ice Hog mascots (really, they're Groundhogs wearing sweaters), some neat cultural stuff (native and Quebecois history), and, of course, la pièce de résistance, Beavertails.

This year was a bit more challenging, and not just because of the addition of a third small-but-big-and-heavy child, although she did leave me with one less hand to hold.  Chris doesn't usually come with, so it's a nice, laid-back, walk-around-and-see-stuff kind of outing.  We met up with a friend and her son, who was on a mission:  he wanted to find the skiing station.  I'd never heard of it, but was game... but wanted to See Stuff on the way to find it.  Like the Native woodworker and his snowshoes and sleds, which Vaughn and I questioned with interest (and his wolf pelts, too).  Like the snow artist intricately carving a massive, 2-story block of snow with what looked like a leaf-blower.  Like tubing down an ice slide, and then hauling the tubes back up the hill with kids inside them (hello, glutes!).  We did, finally, find the skiing display, which was only for 5 to 8 year-olds.  Resilient Ailsa took it very well - you can't fight age -- and we left Vaughn to wait with Amanda and Alex, and took Beavertail orders (it was getting on lunchtime, after all, and I hate lineups). We picked up some cinnamon sugar and Killaloe Sunrises, and went back to eat the treats together.  Their group was just about to go in, and as the boys started forward, the guide finally answered my repeated question:  How long will this take?

One hour.

Yikes.  Tamsin and Ailsa can be lovely and patient, but another hour?  With no real food?  Amanda amazingly offered to stay with the boys and bring Vaughn home later.  I'm pretty sure that I left a cloud of snow behind me as I dashed away.

Ailsa didn't want to go on any more ice slides (rats - I love those), but was keen on trying out the giant snow maze.  We bought tickets, and away we went... I expected a nice little walk together, still pulling Tamsin in the sled.  She handed the tickets to the lady, smiled at me, and ... ran as fast as she could!  "You can't follow me, Mommy!" she directed, and told me to turn down a different path.  The maze was well set up, so that you could always see the rest of the maze, so I wasn't worried about losing her, but it was very twisty and turny - each time I got close to an opening that would lead me to her, she'd laugh and run another way.  We spent about 10 minutes in there, before heading back out the way we came, but the woman pretended that we weren't allowed out.  "You have to find the exit!"  

Tamsin decided she'd had enough, and climbed out of the sled.  Ailsa climbed in.  I handed her my purse, picked up Tamsin, and ...ended up back where we started again.  I put Tamsin down, picked Ailsa up, and ... got turned around again!  Finally, we found our way out.  Ailsa gave the volunteer a great big high five, then turned to me.  "My legs hurt, Mommy."  

You and me both, kid.  

The walk back to the car wasn't too long, but we were cold and tired.  And then I saw our car.

The snow is a nice touch, n'est-ce pas?

The plow jerkface had come by in the 2 hours I was gone, pushed a million pounds of snow up over my bumper, and kept going.  I had left about a foot between me and the car in front of us, and ... well, that was my only hope.  I loaded the girls up, put the sled in the trunk (had to slide it in through the backseat, of course), and took a photo, mostly to show Chris, but now I'm thinking of filing a formal complaint with the city.  This can't be legal.  A family walked by, shaking their heads.  "Do you have a shovel?" they asked.  "No, but I'm borrowing that one" -- I indicated one leaning against a house close by -- "if I need to."  They gave me some encouragement and kept walking.  

I took a deep breath, got in the car, and shifted into reverse.  Nothing, as I expected.  I put it in drive, cranked the wheel, eased forward, and ... I moved!  I cranked the wheel the other way, backed up a little more, and then... I drove away.  Just like that.

About half a block away, the same family was still trudging to their car.  The father turned around and gave me a big thumbs up as I drove past.  I honked the horn, and shouted, "Woo-hoo!"

Vive le Volvo!

Oh What Fun it is to Ride...

In a one-HOSS open sleigh!

Bells on belt buckles ring, making spirits bright...

Note the rather (ok, somewhat) lifelike pose of our warmly-dressed little guy!

Week 35: Seriously, now.

We had our first real snowfall last night. It was beautiful, an icing-sugar snow that Chris was able to just sweep off the driveway this morning.



I was picking up baking supplies in Trevor (and yes, of course I played with the handbrake, but there wasn't enough snow or ice yet... patience...), and admiring the Christmas lights, and of course, what should come on the radio but "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas".



Needless to say, I was a wreck by the time I got home.



Despite the sobs, the Domestic Goddess managed to bake a double batch of cherry-coconut macaroons, freeze 6 dozen of them, clean up, and help around the house a bit before I fell into bed. Well, before I hefted myself up into bed, anyway.



The renovations are almost done! The painter comes in today, so in another week, tops (fingers crossed!), maybe I can build a crib and dresser or something. It doesn't look like I'm very pregnant, does it?



Speaking of that, everybody into the pool! We've developed a nice little baby pool for the Huffalump, with scoring and a well-formatted spreadsheet and everything, so start emailing in your guesses on:

• Date (my estimated due date is January 7th)
• Time (to the closest hour)
• Sex (50/50 chance!)
• Length (in inches)
• Weight (in lbs and oz)

The prize, so far, is bragging rights, but we're open to suggestions!

Original artwork on the wall is by my Very Talented brother-in-law, Ryan.

Long overdue post on vacation; Easter dinner still to come

With our dink-y, yuppie jet-set lifestyle, it's murder trying to find a minute to update this blog...or could it be that I'm just lazy and can't face the computer after a long day at work, and finally made a superhuman effort tonight...OR is it that the resident Guitar Hero just happens to be out tonight?

No comment.


San Francisco. Sonoma Valley. Napa Valley.








Three wonderful places to visit, and we made the most out of them in our 9-day First Anniversary Extravaganza! It started slowly, since I was recovering from a crippling bout with a sinus infection, a lung infection, and my personal favourite, pink eye (hot!), but I perked up fairly quickly once I had a sunbeam on my face and a glass of wine in my hand.



Note: due to the pink eye, I'm not wearing any makeup in these shots. You have been warned.


Above, this is me on our first day in San Fran. Notice the glowing whiteness of my upper chest. That soon turned an angry red, and peeled off a week later. Sure, it's no pink eye, but it's pretty attractive, nontheless. We bought sunscreen at the end of the day.









The hills there are CRAZY. Everything is on a steep angle, and the houses are packed so tightly together! I can't imagine what kind of settlers would have looked at this area and decided it would be a good place to build a home. Observation: San Franciscans have excellent calves. On the right is Lombard Street, which is serpentine -- it's too steep to drive straight down, and the sidewalk is a long flight of steps.




Aaah... this is what I remember from last year in Australia: gnarly dudes, the term used for mature grapevines. And another beautiful day.









This is Sonoma, a quaint, small town with amazing food (overall favourite meal was at the girl and the fig), beautiful picnic spots, and a fun farmers' market on Tuesday nights, where we mixed with the locals on the lawn of City Hall and partook of such gourmet delights as drinking a bottle of wine in plastic cups in public and eating corndogs.










Napa was gorgeous too, but much larger, harder to get around, and commercialized. Luckily, we had signed up for Platypus Tours (awesome FAQ, worth a read), and we were chauffered around with 4 other couples for two days. This is where it got slightly more silly than the corndog night. For your consideration:






Casa Nuestra, which was my favourite winery -- everything was delicious, the staff was amazing, the prices were reasonable, and best of all, there were pictures of Elvis on the walls -- was home to two goats (we bought a bottle of their Two Goats to drink with lunch...and on the coach...).










Now, after seeing the label on the bottle (let's
take a moment to look more closely, shall we?) I should have known better, but hey, this was the second winery, I wanted a picture with the goats, and...and one tried to eat my hair.

This was taken right after his first attempt. As you can see, neither of us is very impressed.








The next day ended with a tour of a winery in an amazing reproduction of a 13th- and 14th century Italian castle, Castella di Amorosa. Incredible architecture, beautiful designs, unbelievable view, just classic all around, and the perfect way to end the fourth day of wine tasting and touring. Really, it was stunning, and... hey Karen! Can you fit in that little hole?

To sum up: Awesome, fantastic, wonderful. Oh, and I'm continuing my aspirations as a tourism brochure photographer. Click on this baby. It's worth millions.




















And, of course, the homecoming. Booooo!











Who knows where the next trip will take us? Perhaps the exotic, far reaches of Red Deer...

IT'S COLD!!!! AGAIN!!!! AND IT'S MARCH!!!

Please note the date: March 6, for the love of Mike! Why am I still living here????

I am wearing:

• turtleneck
• heavy black sweater
• tights
• long johns
• flannel pants
• long socks

And for the walk in, I added:

• toque
• scarf
• fleece jacket
• winter jacket
• little gloves
• fleece mittens

With a strip of my face showing that was literally only one inch thick, I still thought I was going to die.

However, there's nothing like a good bit of grammar humour to warm up the body and soul, so here goes:

Beachcomber's Law of Conservation of Apostrophes states that a balance
exists in nature: "For every apostrophe omitted from an it's, there is
an extra one put into an its."

~ from Lynne Truss' Eats, Shoots & Leaves

(uh oh - is there supposed to be an extra s on the end of Truss'?)

It's that time again

You know which time I mean. The semi-annual "Why the heck do I still live in this country?" time (also occurs in July). A time of deep, introspective thought, soul-searching, and of questioning how it can go from 35 degrees C (but it FEELS like 50) to -20 degrees (but it FEELS like -41), with really only about 6 pleasant days in between, and why we put up with it, instead of moving to a more reasonable climate.

Friends? Family? The ties that bind? Don't be silly. In weather like this, they don't venture out of their homes, either - I could email Meaghan just as frequently from Bora Bora.

What about the people I'd leave behind, though? Could I just up and leave them to their fate? Not with a good conscience, so here's what I propose:

Since everyone complains about the weather, and nobody does anything about it, then dammit, it's time for change.

I propose that every man, woman and child of voting age... ok, just the men and women, then... write to their MPP. Large corporations, departments, and associations should post open letters to Mr. Harper - calls to action to the Minister of the Environment (is it still Rona Ambrose? I haven't paid attention for a few weeks) - if somebody would only legislate some reasonable maximums and minimums, why, our problems could be solved!

Now, I'm not saying that we should go overboard and block out winter altogether. Our status and cachet as hardy Canadians (not to mention our tourism industry) depends on some snow and ice - the canal, Winterlude, etc. However, I think most of us would agree that it doesn't really need to be colder than -15. Ever.

And if it dares dip down to -25 plus windchill?

Retribution! Pitchforks and torches and all that... a stream of angry citizens chasing after weathermen... looting, chaos, and all that good stuff.

Who's with me?

Winterlude 2007

I heard an expression once from a comedian, and I can't think of it in any other way, now. Winterlewd. Heh.

Here I am, skating on the Rideau canal. You can see me just about to go under the bridge - I'm the one in the tocque.

How's the ice, you ask?

http://www.canadascapital.gc.ca/bins/ncc_web_content_page.asp?cid=16297-16299-10080-10081&lang=1

Just made it through the first weekend of Winterlewd (hee hee) 2007. The weather was great for strolling through the Market (on my way home, or on the way to the gym), dodging tourists (with skates swinging from their shoulders), stopping for poutine (after too long at the Brig), and passing by a BeaverTails stand (again, 2 blocks from my house). The plans to go snowboarding on Saturday were quickly downgraded to plans to rent a movie and order pizza... because, at minus 6, it was pretty chilly, and probably chillier up on a ski hill.

Come to think of it, my usual efforts to Embrace Winter!TM have sucked pretty badly for the past two years. I used to bundle myself up and go for walks, go skating, and try to do as much outside stuff as possible, in order to step outside of my warm, hot-chocolate-filled cocoon (happy, happy, warm cocoon...). To Embrace Winter!TM, three years ago, I would walk 45 minutes to go meet a friend for tea. Two years ago, I took snowboarding lessons, which meant that, every Wednesday, come freezing rain, minus-20-degree weather, or... actually, it was only those two conditions, alternating without fail... where was I? Oh yes. I was inside with a book.

Last year, I went skating once. ONCE! No skiing, no snowboarding, no walks through beautiful Gatineau Park. What's changed?

10 guesses, and the first 9 don't count.


Ah, relationship comfort. If I may, let me look back at my past Embrace Winter!TM attempts, and see them a bit more clearly. In fact, instead of Embracing!TM, I think you could also label my outside activities as ones designed to Impress Boys!TM.

The truth is hard to swallow. This mug of hot chocolate goes down much better... especially with a wee bit o' baileys...