Walker wars and memory books

Let me start off by saying, I have been going to the gym lately.   Swear.  Last Friday, I had a free personal training session.  It was fairly dumb of me to schedule this appointment for a Friday after work.  When my co-workers were leaving at 4:00 for a drink, I couldn't say no. "I'll have just one."  I said.  I chose Coors Light because it's the closest alcohol to water.  One turned into three and I ended up rushing to my apartment to get ready.  I was slightly buzzed and thought eating peanut butter would rid me of any beer scent.  It worked.  I even made it on time.  Just buzzed. Like Pearl from The Landlord. Thankfully, we didn't do much cardio. It was mostly arm weights.  Even today, I cannot lift my arms over my head.  I'm just glad I didn't throw up.  That would be too embarrassing and I would never have returned.  Now to stop eating Dove ice cream for dinner.

 I was lucky enough to see Gram again this past weekend.  My brother, his kids and I took a short day trip out to East Longmeadow on Saturday.  No silent rides on the Peter Pan bus this time. Gram was able to leave rehab for some of the day.  I told her I have been going to the gym lately.  She asked if I had lost any weight and then said, "I oughta go to Jim."  I have that on video, but will save it for another time.  This video takes precedence. 



So. Gram fights in rehab.  Thankfully, this isn't the type of rehab where bad behavior lengthens your stay.  Because Phyllis would be screwed.  I am glad Gram fought back.

This is big news.  My mother has made memory books for every family member, soccer coach and acquaintance at work.  Nana Lang got the first one back in the 90s.  It's a book with photos and then Kathy Lang writes captions under each photo.  Every milestone birthday I had, I would always open my last present with such anticipation.  Kind of like Ralphie in A Christmas Story, except he actually got the Red Ryder BB gun. 

No dice for me though.  After mom made one for a Friendly's employee (kidding, I think) I gave up for a while.  This past year though, when visiting my parents, I would ask my mom the same question as I walked through the door.  "Are you exhausted?"  She would ask why and I would say, "From frantically clearing the table because you've been working on my memory book."  This question clearly lit a fire under her ass, because I finally got my book.  I looked at it while sitting next to Gram.  Gram asked who was in every picture.  It was kind of apparent. 

Please excuse my flannel shirt. And the denim number.  Here's short video of Gram and I looking through my memory book.  The picture being referenced was an awful picture from my senior year of high school.  I was tanorexic. With braces. 



Gram remarked later that she should make a memory book of her own.  She also said she was going to write me a letter on a placemat.  She was eating dinner one night and the plates sat atop "lovely placemats".  Gram wanted to write me a letter on it because she didn't get it dirty.  If you recall, I bought her stationery for Christmas.  I would prefer a placemat letter.