Viva Las Vegas!

I started out embedding photos, then decided to go for the gusto in true Vegas style. Here's a video montage of sights and sites from our four-day stay in Las Vegas.

9 weeks of P90X + 3 weeks of inactivity = square one

For those who've never tried it, the P90X commitment is not to be taken lightly. The workouts take anywhere from an hour to an hour and a half (if you're doing the "Ab Ripper" workout after weights). The routine varies between weights and aerobics, yoga, stretching and kenpo (my favorite). There is daily variation and weekly variation and the whole program is nothing short of intense.

My last post was 6 days in to the 90 day commitment. I started right after the 4th of July weekend.

A month after I started my husband and I celebrated our 25th wedding anniversary with a beautiful ceremony/reception. Preparation for that consumed plenty of time and energy. Around that time my beloved husband gave me a new used piano, which introduced a new discipline of 30-minutes-a-day of piano practice into my already busy routine.

In mid-August I spent a week in Taiwan on a business trip. In mid-September my husband and I spent a week in Hawaii on our "honeymoon" vacation. On the last afternoon of our vacation I slipped on a lava rock and sliced open my toe, requiring 6 stitches and a hiatus from my workout routine. I couldn't risk pulling the wound open. Although I'd diligently maintained my workout discipline throughout all of the demands of life, work and travel I suddenly found myself "grounded."

That was September 23rd, the end of my first week of inactivity (vacation). The slice on the bottom of my foot restricted my walking to a slow limping pace, which further slowed me down. Yes, maybe there were some things I could still do but I'd lost my momentum. It's amazing how quickly things unwind. This week I started with some baby steps - push-ups on my knees (so I don't flex my torn toe), crunches, a few wall squats. It's depressing to realize how quickly the flab returned. And I look back and realize how much time flew by while I was busybusybusy with exercise, piano, reading, etc. But not writing.

So, no "after" photos yet of the great beachbody the P90X routine is supposed to yield. I'm not sure how I'll tally the time devoted given the on-again off-again nature of this effort. I'm not sure I want to go back to the 7-day-a-week regimen. I definitely do NOT want to give up completely on the exercise. Maybe there's a happy medium because one thing I DO want is to find time to write again.

When I get back on my feet (or rather the balls of my toes) I will be seeking balance, and not just through yoga training.

Port Aransas fishing

We arrived at Woody's just as dawn was breaking. Hubby's walking ahead of me, just about to turn around and tell me to hurry up! Actually, he gave me the same look he gives me when we go grocery shoppingn together. No words required. Our guide is one of the men standing on the dock, BS'ing with his compadres about the big fish that were just waiting for the mainlanders.

The excursion was a 6 hour adventure on a boat with no amenities. By "amenities" I mean "place to go potty" so we were very cautious with our water consumption. There was very little fishing if by "fishing" we mean "bringing fish onto the boat and putting them away for safekeeping". We threw back about 4 Red fish because they were too small. Another misnomer about the fishing trip - I never touched a single piece of bait and I never cast once, even though I know how. Apparently the goal of the guide is for you to catch your limit so he can hustle you back to the pier. Unfortunately for him, the fish weren't biting.


At the end of the day we had caught 1 Red fish that was big enough to keep and 3 Mango snappers. We had them for dinner last night with a tortilla chip breading and a mango-tequila dressing. Yum!

That's the man I married 24 years ago. He wasn't much of a chef back then, but he was a worthwhile investment. He, my friends, is a keeper.

At the beach

I'm sitting in a meeting, listening to folks squawk about things that have no bearing on my immediate desires. I'm reminded of trips to the beach when occasionally, inevitably, someone feels compelled to feed the seagulls.

I'm doing my best to ignore the yammering but I'm feeling the beginnings of a headache just the same. I wish I could wade out into the wake to let the crashing waves drown out the squawking.

Port Aransas, the home of Boggie Boogie Boards and Sandels Sandles Sandals

The beach does not attract our most literate citizens, clearly. Considering the number of places that sell boogie boards and sandals, I was surprised by the number of places selling "boggie boards" and "sandels" and "sandles."

Just in case you're wondering, the patrons and staff at this particular shop had their swimsuits all the way on. Don't get excited.

Life & Death in the balance

The most memorable tale of the trip to Port A is definitely the day I was dumped in the drink for an unexpected swim in the briny sea.

Hubby and I love to go treasure hunting on St. Joe's island. We've taken our jet ski over there and brought back wonderful finds that I lovingly refer to as "nautical artifacts". Rope, nets, buoys, all sorts of treasures. Hubby can tell great tales of the times he's transported large shrimp nets and 4" diameter ropes back to the harbor. The harbor where it's nice and safe, with calm waters. The gulf, however, is temperamental. We've had excursions that are relatively mild. We had to abort one mission last year when we tried to go out during the build-up to Hurricane Dolly. You'd think we'd have learned by now.

The lure of those treasures calls to us and so we brave the sea. Wednesday was calm. Hubby went skiing outside of the jetty into the gulf and had no trouble. Thursday, we headed out together (picture me hanging on behind my beloved). We should have checked the weather. The winds were high and the sea was choppy. Very choppy. Big waves. As we got close to the island, I lost my grip and was dumped off the jet ski into the gulf. I was already a little scared but it didn't take long to become a lot scared. I lost my glasses when I went into the water. I could see the floaty device (attached to the earpieces, but NOT properly tightened up behind my head) bobbing a short distance away but I could barely make any headway despite my best efforts. I snagged my glasses just as hubby circled back for me. There was no way I was going to be able to climb back on to the jet ski while being tossed about, so he towed me to shore. Not before I removed my swim shorts, which were sliding down my legs. I'm glad my swimsuit bottoms stayed on. Picture me clinging with both hands to the handle (just below the "HA" in "YAMAHA") stretched out behind as hubby made his way to shallow waters. If he went too slowly, he couldn't control the jet ski. If he went too quickly, I wouldn't have been able to hang on.

I should mention, being towed as I was my face was right by the exhaust so breathing challenges included wave and fume avoidance. Needless to say I got my share of both.

We made it shore and I was ready to leave immediately. It's hard to focus on treasure-hunting when you're busy kissing the sandy shore. Hubby puttered with anchoring the jet ski but settled for dragging it to shore. By the nature of the jet ski itself it's not a good idea to lug a huge anchor and our little anchor proved inadequate in the face of the pounding waves.

I'm not sure how long we spent actually treasure-hunting. Maybe 15 minutes. Hubby soon waved me over and said "I'm a little nervous about the jet ski." Have you ever stood on the shore with the waves are washing over your feet and you sink in to the sand? The jet ski was getting "dug in" as the waves were pulling sand out from under it.

Fortunately my heart had settled a bit and I was ready to go because when hubby says "I'm a little nervous" it means it's time for me to be fully alarmed.

Getting back on the jet ski in the rough water was no easy trick. At one point Hubby suggested I drive because we both needed to board instantaneously so he could start/accelerate the jet ski without getting tossed back off. He began giving me instructions on how to crest the waves, navigate the swells, etc. I agreed to get my butt on the jet ski a split-second behind him, no problem.

I won't bore you with the details of the long ride back to harbor. The jet ski had taken on a lot of water and the engine strained to push through wave after wave. I clung to hubby and considered our options if one or both of us were thrown off. I prayed and prayed, thanking God for His endless mercy. He's proven yet again, "God watches over fools and treasure-seekers."

Later that day I realized the jade bracelet I picked up in China, the one I wear so much I forget I have it on, the one I noticed as I was backing the jet ski off of the trailor into the safe, calm harbor waters thinking "it'll be okay, not worth the hassle of trying to get it to Hubby," yeah, it was gone. No doubt claimed by the sea. Its absence is a souvenir. A reminder. A reminder to be grateful for all that I've been given. A reminder to focus on what's important.

Thank you, Lord, for keeping this foolish treasure-seeker safe.

Here's a girl who's grateful to be alive, standing on the jetty with the calm, safe harbor waters behind her:





Here's a hint of the choppy waters (Mustang Island side of the jetty at dusk).