I’ve been off-line for a few days and getting back up yesterday didn’t leave time to add to my own blog.

But, it gave me a chance to weigh the pros and cons of exposing the ridiculousness I share with more than few Steelers fans.

Superstitions.

Being superstitious almost precluded me doing this post at all.

If the Steelers lose on Sunday. You know who to blame.

ESPN 1250 (I think it was them) was asking earlier in the week what rituals people HAVE to perform to ensure there is a win on Sunday.
You’d think they’d have trouble finding more than a few knuckleheads who actually believe their actions influence a game they’re not even present for.

But no. Just within my family alone, we have two people with Ph.D.’s and two with law degrees who will at some point in the game think their actions have ruined the Steelers’ Drive for Five or helped guide a critical Big Ben pass into the waiting arms of Hines Ward or Heath Miller.

The team might as well pack in their practice uni’s.
Cower and company can turn off the game tape because the fans have got it all under control.

SCRATCH THAT

Staff and team shouldn’t do anything different from what they have in the last five months. Perhaps next year they could think about adding a Superstition Control Coach to the staff. It might be worth the investment.

To this day my sister-in-law and I blame my brother John (her husband) for Pitt’s loss to North Carolina four and a half years ago. It was supposed to be a nothing match-up.

Then John showed up at the game in a Pittsburgh Pirate baseball hat.
WTF?
He neutralized all the strong Pitt vibes and it led to one of the most dissapointing losses of the year.
He still feels guilty. We still remind him.

Note to self: Confirm John’s wardrobe selections for Sunday

None of this makes any sense. It’s just a game. But in the dead of winter, under the unpenetrable grey sky of Pittsburgh, the optimism the Steelers represent is priceless. Ask the fella who suffered a heart attack during the Palamalu interception debacle.

So, all yinz guys out there, get your stinkin’ affairs in order and put away that neutral team garb for another day. There’s serious work to do.

Don’t hate me for my irrational leanings. They’re contained within my head, safely tucked away. Most of the time.

GO STEELERS!

You’ll see below that Maura has called us all into the gym for some training. We’re still working out how this is going to work, exactly. But please leave as many questions or comments for her as you want!

As time goes by you’ll learn more about Maura (she won’t be easy on you) and see your body change as you employ her simple though sometimes tough tips…not such a bad thing in the name of health, huh?

Get off your ass. I think that’s her motto though she hasn’t identified it as such….Check it out.

My name is Maura Shoop. I’m a personal trainer and group exercise instructor. I’ve taught group classes for twenty years and I’ve recently started my own business. So, now I’m here, to help you through your exercise woes. Everyone’s got ’em so let’s get started on the first module of the year!

As you can imagine, January is notoriously busy for me. And you too. Who doesn’t make some kind of resolution to improve their body?

I must confess though, for years I resisted becoming a personal trainer. I can’t tell you how many people I talked out of getting a trainer because I believed and still do believe, changing your body MUST come from within. Not from some person breathing down your neck, pushing you to do something you don’t want to.

Self-motivation and discipline are the ultimate keys to success.

What I’ve found is that scheduling and showing up for appointments is exactly the kind of motivation some people need.

But realizing trainer’s are expensive and will not be the SECRET to success. I want to offer some weekly suggestions and also take your questions. I can help stir some of the motivation you might be lacking. All I ask, is you give it a try.

There are no quick fixes or magic diets. You have to take in less than you put out.

If you eat Big Mac, fries, and a thousand other calories one day, get off your ass and move. Cardio! Cardio! Cardio! is the way to BURN UP CALORIES!

The more intense the cardio the more calories burned. You can do it! Get off your ass and move.

I’m calming down. Time for my tip of the week. Again, not that there are easy answers…but some of these strategies can create a cycle of good choices and make weight loss easier.

TIP #1
Think Airplane Emergency Procedures–“Put your mask on before assisting others.”

Same goes for when you’re feeding the kids. Especially breakfast. That way you won’t pick at their food and indulge because you’re frustrated and hungry and don’t even realize it. This might mean eating a little earlier. This is good. Finish eating all meals by 6:00PM. Go to bed a little hungry and repeat Tip 1.

You’re not going to starve to death. Use some discipline. Save yourself first. You’ll be so much better for it.

As the week goes by, use the comment space to leave me questions or updates on how the tips are working for you.

Thanks for stopping by! Happy training. You can do it.

…sounds like fiction.
It might be. I was drifting off to sleep with the news on and I swear that’s what the news-caster said.
In Isreal, Sharon’s doctors were going to lure him out of his coma with the scent of his favorite sandwich.
I could be lying about this, because I was teetering between awake and sleep.
But I swear that’s what they said.

How freaking humiliating.
Did they choose this course of treatment based soley on him being portly?
Is this common practice? Damn scientists are always up to something sneaky and secret, aren’t they?
Are patients at UPMC in Oakland being drawn out of comas by the scent of Original hotdogs on a daily basis? Or Primati’s sandwiches?

It’s so simple. And so freaking cheap.
Quick! Someone calculate the cost of allowing someone to lolly-gag around in a coma for months when you could wave a foot-long under their sniffer.

Might explain the high success rate of UPMC both medically and financially. The jig is up. Health care costs should be plummeting as we drink our morning java.

Disclaimer…I think this is true but I’m not sure so please don’t hold me up to any stinkin’ writerly standards. ‘An ‘At.

Who’s managed to do this so far? NOt me. I’m working up to it. We have to the end of January people.

I feel like I’ve done this post before.

But only the title is similar.

Max, our dog just puked two humongous piles of garbage on the family room rug.
Of course. 2/3 of the family room/kitchen area is hardwood, but she feels most comfortable letting it rip onto the fiberous portions of the floor.

Without fail.

Now yesterday. Was funny.

We busted our asses to get to the 8:30 church service.

It started at 8:15.

Who the hell starts church on the quarter hour?

After an embarrassing entry into the church with my in-laws watching from across the room, we settled in.
I wiped the sweat from my brow and realized there was an enourmous–I’m talking a lumpy, hulking sized, clump of something stuck to the bottom of my right shoe.

My very cute shoes. But not cute in a small petite way.
They’re Dansko’s the most comfy shoes on the planet.

But the soles are grooved. Perfect for picking up and transporting large amounts of semi-moist chunky stuff.

So Bill and I are sitting there looking at my shoe trying to ascertain whether it was dog shit or mud. It didn’t smell, but it sure looked like crap.

After 15 minutes a very constipated Beth decided she was finally ready to poop.

So we traipsed out of church where she pooped after two days of trying. She’s new to this crap on the toilet stuff.

While she was on the pot, I went to work on the shoe.
Poop. It was.

I used the diaper wipes to clean up my shoe.

We made it back for the last ten minutes of church.

The good and bad of having kids and dogs, I guess.

The controversy swirling around this book is baffling to me.
For now anyway.
Until the smoke clears and the feeding frenzied blogging world is stuffed full. Then maybe the facts will emerge.

Apparently parts of this guy’s non-fiction book have been fabricated.
But, the book isn’t a journalistic piece. It’s a memoir. And, I thought, subject to hazy details and hedged boundaries.

Maybe he did outright lie. I don’t know. That would be disappointing.

But I read on another blog that people couldn’t imagine how this guy’s story could be true–how could he remember these intricate details of his pain while in such pain, so screwed up on drugs and then withdrawal?

I say that’s when you do remember ever inch of bizarre, intricate things. Not everything around you. But certain aspects of life would be forever embedded in your being.

With all that said, my sister and I did talk about how we thought it was crazy that he wasn’t given pain medication during his root canal. Not that they’d have given him a roadie for the trip back to rehab, but that was way beyond brutal. True or not, who knows. I still think his tale was disturbingly riveting. Says something about me, I’m sure.

…almost here. I spoke to Maura tonight and she’s ready to get started in a few days. She’s preparing her tip to get us started and then you can feel free to send your questions. Her first tip is a great one, stay tuned.

Beth and Jake were so well behaved today that every minute of the day was fun and easy. Wow, what a great one. I wonder if the day feels any different to them. They agreed it was a great day, but they couldn’t really say whether it felt better than any other day. Hopefully it’s all good in their book.

…it seems as though every time I’m treated to one of his segments he’s talking about the exact same thing. I know he’s not because CBS can’t possibly believe we’d be so stupid as to not notice. But here he is sharing his letters regarding buying American cars.

I thought that topic was beat into the ground along with the soundtrack of Saturday Night Fever.
Get another freaking topic, for the love of God in sweet blue heaven.
I’m assuming it’s blue. That will be nice if it is.

I was perusing the all illuminating Us magazine when I came across a picture of Star Jones reading her very own book in public. On the beach.
I don’t know.
I might just be dizzy from a barage of rejections, but please promise.
If you catch me reading my own book while on vacation, sipping tall cool ones, you’ll immediately, without a hint of hesitation, beat me about the shoulders with my best selling tome.
Please.