The Secret (Socks)

I know there’s a book called The Secret out there. Please tell me it’s about how to wear, and keep in place, secret socks.

Seriously, there is more to the secret of these little fabric foot pouches than simply not seeing them when wearing shoes. Although, and I kid you not, I have seen somebody wearing them with sandals. Best not go there.

Today I’ve got a pair on my feet. I won’t say I’m wearing them, because while they are on my person, they are shifting around in my shoes, moving towards my toes where they will bunch up and have me grinding my teeth within the hour.

I don’t even know which way round they go, as in do I have the heel part over my toes, or vice versa? For crying in a bucket, how difficult can it be to put them on?  I’m an adult for goodness sake, you’d think I’d know how to put on a pair of socks, secret or not.

I’m wondering, could this be my new book?

Picture in part available from here

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Bearing in mind my love of all that is exercise . . . not

In my previous post about being a lazy old cow, it was pretty obvious my love of all that related to working up a sweat at the gym was not on my favourite-thing-to-do-list. And so when I read a story about Olivia, a little girl looking to bunk phys ed, I could so very, very much relate.

Olivia’s mother’s response was brilliant. Have a read, I think you’ll have a smile

Oh dear Olivia, your mother so busted you

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Excuse me, who you calling a lazy old cow?

Exercise and I really don’t do all that well. I’m the kind of gal who will go to the gym regularly, but will find joy in parking and leaving without the need to walk through the door.

When I do get in there though, my point of exercise has generally been the treadmill. Where to be fair, the gym folk make it pretty easy for you really. You can eat, use the free Wi-Fi, watch bodies, watch bodies, watch bodies . . . and then . . .climb the stairs to the beasts. Honestly, after doing all that, there seems to be no reason why I can’t hit the start button instead of standing there, gloomily, willing the machine to fall apart, rendering me free from exercise. I mean, once on, I can plug in my iPod and listen to music, or utilise my headphones to watch and listen to live TV.

What’s the problem then? Well during my moderate walk on this hateful machine, I tend to swing my arms rather gently, and in doing so manage to wrap the earphone cable around my hands, which then rips them from my ears. It’s painful people, and a pretty good reason to not hit the start button after all. Between you and me, I have considered kicking it as I climb on, however there is fear that wearing steel-tipped boots might draw attention.

Nevertheless, taking note of my medical aid’s questionnaire to determine my state of fitness and exercise level, they tell me that sitting at a desk all day I am in fact a lazy old cow. Now I don’t know about you, but that seems pretty rude, and so I set about monitoring how lazy I really am.

To do this I got myself a little pedometer. Nifty little gadget it is, that once set up can be clipped to my belt, jacket, shoe, even my ear with no further worry about pressing buttons to ensure my lack of movement is being recorded. Yes, I peep at it every so often to see how many steps I’ve taken, and to see the little feet images are ready to flash with each step I take. Other than that it merrily counts away

It’s clipped on when I get up, and then off when I go to bed.

There be success, and I can happily say that on a daily basis of sitting all day, walking to the kitchen for food and drink breaks, as well as all other daily movement, including walking my dog and general chores of life – no visits to the gym’s parking area – I can achieve close to the 10000 steps per day my medical aid say I should be doing.

Huh! So not such a lazy cow after all, you medical aid questionnaire you!

I put this to them via Facebook a couple of weeks ago, and so far no response. One can only assume they are seeking funding to test my findings.

Happy stepping to you all ☺

Birdman, boring or brilliant?

I went to watch Michael Keaton’s Birdman yesterday.

Well what can I say other than boring and depressing. A couple of ladies walked out about fifteen minutes in, and hubby nudged me at least twice to suggest we leave. He even admitted to trying to sleep his way through. I stuck it out because I was hoping the end would bring some happiness into my life. But no, not a dicky-bird.

That said, Keaton’s performance was superb, and you can well understand why he is currently filling his bookshelf with awards. His portrayal of a washed up actor, fighting any number of demons regarding depression, failure and family can’t be faulted.

The one bit that didn’t make sense to me though, and which kind off made me think the Director/Writer was taking the piss, was around Michael Keaton’s character flying. I won’t give too much away if you’re intending seeing the movie, but the initial flying I could put down to imagination, but the final stint . . . well it just didn’t make a blind bit of sense.

I’d like to know what anybody else thought, because I’ve seen almost only positive reviews for the movie, and only the odd negative. Could it be I’m ignorant of good movies?

As a final note, while I was waiting at the bathroom afterwards a lady questioned me on the movie . . . it seems we were of a similar opinion. Her suggestion of a good one is The Imitation Game, the Alan Turing story, with Benedict Cumberbatch.

Actually, allow me a further final note. A journalist made a comment about The Imitation Game, which had me frowning and saying “Really!?” The comment was along the lines of “this is a story about a little known character.”

Do you know who he is? I knew straight off. But could that be because I lived pretty close to Bletchley Park?

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