Lovin' Pilates

It's really cold here in Texas (okay, relatively speaking), so in my new year's quest to exercise every day, I'm doing Pilates. On Monday I did an old VHS tape I got years ago, and then I got another one from the library yesterday that has 10-minute workouts. Seriously, after one 10-minute workout this morning, I'm feeling like I went jogging for 30 minutes. Nice. That may be a reflection on how very out-of-shape I am (don't think I could jog 30 minutes continuously at this point), but I hope it also means that Pilates is a good idea for me! It reminds me of my modern dancing days as a pre-teen and teen with Miss Cathy and Miss Pearl. My VHS tape lady Ana (who is not nearly as colorful as Miss Pearl and Miss Cathy were) says that Pilates will help me look thinner. Since my chocolate and comfort foods addictions have carried over from Christmas, looking thinner sounds like a nice fix to me!

P.S. I found my new favorite brown corduroy pants today that I bought a few months ago because my hips had grown too large for my old pants. What was a great fit just a month ago (when I lost them), is now sorta snug. Argh. Maybe I just need to live the rest of my life in sweats (or give up the chocolate and comfort food . . . but it's COLD . . .).

P.P.S. It's evening now, and I think I should add here that I am FEELING that 10-minute Pilates workout. So sore in my neck and back and legs. How can that be with only 10 minutes? And now I'm suddenly babysitting a blind poodle named Reginald for four days while Rich is out of town. When I get near Reggie, he looks at me with his blind, silver, hating-me eyes, and growls. Must breathe. Must love the dog. Must love those crazy, rambunctious, naughty boys in my world who fight like dogs—boys who spread shredded paper all over the house and themselves today. And I must sleep. Breathe and sleep.

P.P.P.S. Katie posted some pictures of our trip to Dallas for New Year's. So glad that someone was taking pictures, because I left my camera in the car the whole time. I'm glad to be a Cutler.

The Death of a Delusion

Rich bought this car today. We are now a two-car family again. And I'm in mourning.

Yeah, it will be dreamy to have a car to myself, and not have to negotiate daily about who gets the car. But this luxury means the death of a dream/delusion.

You see, when we had one car, we were different. We were making a statement that the American Dream does not need to include two gas guzzling cars. We were hippies and nonconformists (or so we thought). We have bikes, and we can pedal our way all over the place. Never mind that this is Texas suburbia, which isn't all that bike-friendly. We find our own safe (circuitous) ways to get places. In theory, I can get everywhere I need to go on my bike--school, library, grocery store (never actually tried it . . .), doctor, dentist, church, Sonic (fast food carries less guilt when you burn calories to get there!).

Having only one car has pushed me to actually ride my bike some of those places, and I love the concept of getting exercise outside without having to schedule it into my day or get a babysitter while I do it. Being a one-car family meant that not only did we save the money that second car would cost, but also the money we might spend on a gym membership, since we get our exercise by actually using our energy to get places. I love it that when we go out the door to go somewhere, Graham heads for the bike first, not the car.

Pride you say? Well yeah, I guess you could call it that. And lack of discipline. Both vices.

After much discussion over some recent life-changes (more on this later), I gave into the idea that this car is pretty much a necessity. Though only two families in our branch in India even owned a car, we need two. Though I can get most everywhere I need to go on my bike, a car in the driveway "just in case" is wise. We can serve better and carpool better this way. We can stop the marital discord that negotiating over the car can cause. We can stop relying on friends and family to bail us out when our one-car world is too small. Rich can be more successful at work with a car to get him there. We might actually guzzle less gas because I won't be dropping Rich off at work or picking him up on rainy days or late days. The disappointingly pragmatic list goes on . . .

When in Rome, do as the Romans do. We live in (suburban) America now, so after almost 1.5 years living here again, we should probably act like we're part of it. Will I continue to ride my bicycle as many places and leave that minivan in the driveway? We'll see. I hope so.

Can you hear me singing that Queen song?

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride my bike!

I want to ride my bicycle, I want to ride it where I like!