This Old Stove

Posted on December 23, 2014 by tosabarbell

stove

After I moved to Wisconsin, we were dealing with house projects Matt’s brother was “finishing”; two room-mates who moved out while Matt was on the road which meant stuff they didn’t want to take they just left for us to deal with; a kitchen that had a refrigerator in the middle of it that hadn’t been cleaned out in forever (really. Forever), and oh by the way? A truck and a trailer full of my stuff to  unload. To say it was chaotic is the year’s understatement.

As happy as I was to be with Matt, I was incredibly overwhelmed at the state of my new home. That we made it out of that summer intact was a plus, heh. Things have improved since then. I’d say drastically; however; with Zandra’s arrival brought a basement full of boxes which cuts down our living space by a third. She’ll be digging into those in the new year…or I will. True story.

Anyways.

The house is getting more love now than it has in quite some time. New doors; new paint; more cleaning; more dog hair, the important stuff. And while our kitchen is actually a great size (not too big, not too small) it is definitely outdated. Including our old stove. I was talking to friends about the kitchen the other day. Their advice? Don’t touch it unless we know we’re staying put for another 10 years (which we’re not. Hopefully.) We’ll never get our money back.

It got me thinking. Even though a shiny new fridge and stove would be so much fun, we’ve done pretty darn good with this old stove. We’ve made many meals on it which kept us healthy and strong. Matt almost burned the house down when he put my Texas Bluebonnet oven mitt on it with a burner still going (you still owe me a Texas Bluebonnet oven mitt Bigg guy.) We’ve made some meals that were quite delicious and adventurous. We’ve made steaks in that cast iron and finished them in the oven. We’ve made meals that have fed friends and family (and dogs when the food falls on the floor) that has brought a lot of love and laughter in our home. The pounds of bacon and ground hamburger that have been made on this stove number somewhere in the 100’s I’m sure.

The old stove has served as extra counter space when needed and somehow we’ve been able to keep over seven dishes going at once with some careful juggling. It is the center of the universe for us most days and I’m thankful for it. Even our old fridge which is actually in rougher shape almost always has food in it (when I’m alone for a week or two while Matt is traveling it holds a few salads and 5# of chicken in it but that’s all I need.) There is almost always some scrumptious beer ready to be enjoyed and while Oz is here the pepperoni and Snackables seem to come out of nowhere.

So I’ll take it. And I’ll appreciate our old stove. But I never want to see what’s behind it or in between the wall and the stove on the side. That’s a horror story waiting to be written I’m sure.

True story.

Health is the greatest gift; contentment the greatest wealth, faithfulness the best relationship.

Buddha

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Monday Bacon: Christmas Revolution

Posted on December 22, 2014 by tosabarbell

lutefisk

There were two items each Christmas that my brother, sister, and I had to endure; a crazy Christmas church schedule which ensured we never sat together and caused enough stress to barely make Christmas bearable AND the stink of Lutefisk in the house for an entire week.

See in the olden days (yes, my youth) the Lutefisk still needed to be soaked in lye prior to baking. The smells would permeate every fiber, every cell, every surface of the house. Winter coats weren’t safe; hair needed to be washed about three times a day, the couch still smelled of the Lutefisk as far out as spring break. True story.

And that’s only the smell. The taste is a whole ‘nother thing. Know how to get a bite of Lutefisk down? Have a piece of Lefse coated in butter and sugar ready to go immediately after. A Swedish meatball dredged in gravy doesn’t hurt as a back up too. ANYthing to get that Lutefisk taste out of your mouth.

But the quicker you take your mandatory bites of the jelly fish, the sooner we could get dishes done and open prizes. Parental blackmail is so effective.

Until one year. The year of the Christmas Revolution. My mom decided that the meatballs would be served on Christmas day instead so we were missing a key ingredient to our back-up plan. The Lefse was pretty much finished off before we even sat down for dinner which left the Lutefisk and potato’s. UffDa! WHAT NOW????

That’s when my older brother, Jerry, staged one of the most magnificent Coup’s in history. He jumped out of his chair, stood up so majestically I was sure he grew to around 10 feet tall and declared, “ENOUGH! I’m making us hamburgers! Who’s with me?” (Okay, I added the ‘who’s with me’ for dramatical affect, he didn’t really say that but it adds flair doesn’t it?)

I sat in stunned silence. Hamburgers? That’s an option? I nervously looked at my dad who just kept eating. Mom, on the other hand, didn’t go down without a fight. “Don’t even think about it Jerome John Peterson!” You know Mom’s mean business when you get all three names staccato’d out. True story.

My dad, in between bites of the jellyfish finally said, “Aww, just let him make some burgers. Kids should eat what they want on Christmas.” Parent point goes to Pastor John.

And we ate hamburgers for Christmas Eve dinner. I can probably say without a doubt that it was, and is still, the greatest hamburger of my life. A burger served with a side of revolution. What’s not to love?

Ya know what though, I miss the smells of Lutefisk. It’s Christmas. Yes, it’s disgusting, but bygod it’s Christmas and the house should stank of Lutefisk. I’ve even made it in past years and my husband loves me so much he ate it. Put enough butter on pretty much anything and he’ll eat it. Since we didn’t go to Minnesota for Christmas this year I had to pass on having it in the house and that makes me a little melancholy for it.

lutefisk1

But we DO have Olsen’s pickled herrings, which has been around since 1910 which means that we’ve been eating the Lutefisk from Olsen’s since about 1971 (well, me anyway.) I have two buckets worth fresh from Minnesota and I can’t wait. I overeat pickled herrings at Christmas time. Get in enough just to last me another 11 months. (I actually love it all year round but will only eat Olsen’s. Tradition.)

And even though I do miss the smells and the groans of having Lutefisk in the house, I’ll be sure to enjoy just as much the prime rib roast and pierogi and herrings and crescent rolls (I swear to god if you don’t eat crescent rolls at the holidays I don’t even want to know you) and swedish meatballs and…well you get the picture. We do aight. But the smells aren’t the same.

Thank goodness.

(Sung to O Christmas Tree)

O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, how fragrant your aroma,
O Lutefisk, O Lutefisk, you put me in a coma.
You smell so strong, you look like glue,
You taste just like an overshoe,
But lutefisk, come Saturday,
I tink I eat you anyvay

O Lutefisk, O lutefisk, you have a special flavor.
O Lutefisk, O lutefisk, all good Norvegians savor.
That slimy slab we know so well
Identified by ghastly smell.
O Lutefisk, O lutefisk,
Our loyalty won’t waver.

Red Stangeland

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Nothing To See Here…Move Along!!!

Posted on December 18, 2014 by tosabarbell

invisible

An interesting little string of events have happened our way at lil ‘ol Marquette University. Now, I don’t know much about Marquette other than the fact that we can see it on our way home when leaving the Lake or downtown area. My cousin Stacy went there prior to attending Chiropractic school and I adore her so I assume only nice people go there. I guess it’s a Catholic school which probably means more to Catholics than me.

It’s a college filled with impressionable college kids and by impressionable I mean bratty and cheap. True story, when we went to a coffee shop nearby to grab a sandwich after my weightlifting meet there were scores of students taking up space drinking either water out of water bottles they brought from home or some had the balls to just go ahead and bring in their own cup of coffee. Uhhh, kids? GTFO to people who actually spend money.

Kids these days. (I said that in my best Get Off My Lawn voice.)

But things have gotten a bit dramatic over at Marquette. I heard some rumblings on the radio that a Professor, a Conservative Professor to be exact, has been suspended after blogging about a different Philosophy Professor’s disallowing discussion of a student’s views on anti-gay policies due to the fact that it may offend gay students and instantly be labeled as homophobic.

Uhhhhh, hold on. Back up. First off, this happened in a philosophy class. Now, I only went to little old Midland Lutheran College (newly retired Highland Games Pro Sean Betz went there too so that gives me cred YO) but when I went to philosophy class (which I showed up for cuz it was after lunch so I was up by then) we discussed, oh I dunno, PHILOSOPHIES. But that was a Lutheran school so maybe the Catholics roll differently.

Or maybe this is just the age we live in. Colleges no longer are here to help guide young adults along to become informed and detailed when sharing opposing views. They are no longer here to dig deep into issues; history; the pathology of human nature and how we all just need to ‘get along.’ Nope. Now, it’s shut up or you’ll offend someone. Actually that’s not true, because what if the dude or dudette who wanted to talk about their views was offended. Shit. Slippery slope.

You can’t, oh I dunno, say, “Look, this is a personal topic for many. So we’ll discuss it but we will have boundaries for both sides. Here they are; x, y, and z. Cross those lines and you’re done. There is no “they” and “we.” There are policies that have helped America or hurt America and you’re going to back up your opinion with real numbers.”  Gee, wouldn’t it be refreshing to have a political discussion like that? Ya know why no one does anymore? Cuz they don’t know how. They just know how to divide; accuse; be offended; scream; call names.

Oh yeah, here are a few little known facts. People with Christian values are not always the opposite of people who support Gay rights. But we have come this far, i.e. Christian means Homophobic. See how quickly you can dismiss an opposing view? Call a name. Also, people who support Gay rights do not always support Gay lifestyles. Again, slippery. Hate the sin, love the sinner. A nice little glib Christian saying. But wait a minute, we’re ALL sinners so we’re all in the same boat. Comforting.

All in the same boat: Christians; Gays; Blacks; White Police Officers; Atheists; Priests; Marathon runners. All of us. In the same boat. Why are we fighting those we need to rely on to be a strong America?

Cuz it’s fun. It give the press something to do, divide Americans. Use labels, further the message that large groups of people are being “held down by the man.” (But, uh, your Man is black too…so slippery.)

Anyways. Writing the story of the philosophy class happenings on his blog, Professor McAdams has been suspended of duty. GTFO dude, tow the line or GTFO. So not only can you NOT have open discussion in class, but out of class also. Memo to me: don’t send Oz to Marquette. He’s 14 and already has pretty firm opinions and convictions. He won’t last long spending days in a place where he can’t even share them even while being respectful of those who disagree with him. Which means he’ll never be heard and that tends to annoy him.

The hub bub at Marquette seems to revolve around two issues. 1) The original philosophy Professor said no to a very real discussion because she didn’t want anyone offended even though it was within her power to guide the discussion and keep tight reins on it but chose not to because she probably doesn’t even know how. (A bigger problem for Marquette in hiring Professors ill equipped with the tools to guide dissenting views. Status Quo man.) B.  Another Professor blogged about it. (DO NOT EVER HAVE AN OPINION THAT DIFFERS FROM THEIRS. EVER!) 3. (Ya, I know I said two earlier) The University is handling things poorly in not keeping to their own policies in suspending Professors and keeping them off campus (uh oh, the trouble with not following your own policy with college professors is that said professors are usually smart enough to call you out on it.)

SNAFU from green light.

At then end of the day, I don’t care about either Professor at Marquette. What I care about is that this nation gets more divided every day. If you’re not for us (“us” being our belief) you’re against us and we must end your right to speak…or exist. We have become weak because real world issues are going on and Americans are scrambling on the internet to find their next “Can’t Breath” t-shirt. (Don’t even get me started on that.)

The divided America is a weak America. I don’t know why more people aren’t seeing this. If I become your enemy because I have a different opinion than you, congratulations, you’ve just become a parody of yourself. Here’s your sign:

invisible1

I must study politics and war that my sons may have liberty to study mathematics and philosophy. 

John Adams

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You’re Old, Own It!

Posted on December 16, 2014 by tosabarbell

old

Whenever my daughter and I run errands together she’ll hot step over to me as I get out of the car; grab my arm and say, “Let me help you since you’re old as fok and I don’t want you to break a hip.” She’s special like that. It cracks me up. When it’s icy out, there have been plenty of times we’ve almost gone down together and believe me, I think I’d come out of that better than her.

I proved that last night. I took a spill that happened so fast; scared the ever lovin’ out of my husband and took a step stool and a table with me. MyBad. Christmas light application is no joke. But I’m fine. I’ll have some good bruises, maybe, I don’t really bruise much. My right glutes are tender and my left arm knows that it took much of the impact but nothing broke; nothing bent, all is well. As lucky as I feel that I didn’t crack an arm or something equally as annoying, I’m also thankful that I’m strong enough to take a blow. I got Chinese take-out off it all so I’ll take that as a win. Heh.

But I’m old. Older anyway than I was last year when I ran my off-season program. Know what that means? I need to pay attention to how I’m feeling. Cuz if I run my body into the ground now, I’m sunk for next year. In all ways, not just in competition. I want to feel good. I want to feel strong. I’ll put up with some brief soreness due to a switch up in programming but if it’s chronic, I need to change my programming. Duh.

The amount of times I read on the interwebz where Masters age (read: older than 40) people are driving themselves into the ground based on a complete lack of understanding or proper programming surprises even me and I’m about as cynical as they come. Many believe that being so sore you can’t get yourself off the toilet the next day means that you had an “asskicker” of a workout and you can’t wait to get back at it…once you can walk again. Ya know what that means?

You’ve either hired a coach that has no idea how to train a masters age person and  doesn’t understand the damage chronic inflammation does to you so they just made you do a workout a 25 year old would do just fine and when you tell them how gawdawful sore you are they just talk you into the fact that you’re so horribly out of shape that it will get better when you get stronger. (Ya, I know that was long winded but I get long winded when I rant.) When IN FACT, you should have hired the coach that understands how age affects the body and will GET you stronger without over damaging muscle and tissue so that you can function in life the ENTIRE time you’re getting stronger. See how that works?

The other scenario people of age utterly fail at is reading a program on the internet (it’s true if it’s on the internet, right) and saying, ‘hey, that looks perfect for me.’ without any idea on how adaptation works. Case in point, I follow Matt Vincent’s Training Lab for my programming. It’s basically a standard periodized program but someone else wrote it all down for me and that makes it easy. Off-season; Pre-season; In-season and recovery. Covered it all and I like it. But do I follow it as written? Uhhhhhhh, course not. The program was written for the ideal candidate; like dudes in their prime ready to hit the gym hard while Mom makes them their hot pockets for recover. (Not really but it still cracks me up when my Zac will yell from the other room, “MA, MAKE ME A HOT POCKET.” No, I never do but I get a chuckle out of it;) Point is, the average person who would find success with the (most actually) program is a dude in their 20’s-early 40’s who hasn’t seen a substantial dip in testosterone yet or is smart enough to supplement and has a job that supports training their ass off each week or is smart enough to know how to adjust for work demands.

But that’s not me. I’m a 47 year old mom of three with pretty crappy genetics and whenever I’m training my main concern is this: How will I recover from this? Because if I’m not recovering, I’m screwed. So I add a Jules twist to Training Lab and it works just fine. Actually, it works perfectly according to successes of my last season and how I feel now. I’m entering my 10×10’s Block very gingerly right now and never, ever, neverever do 10×10’s on the deadlift.

Ever. If I did that, I’d be out of commission for weeks and would do enough damage to my system as a whole that it would take me months to recover. RECOVER, the most important part of strength training for people in general but especially us Master’s. Chronic inflammation prevents recovery. It seems so simple to me that it boggles my mind how someone fails to understand that. But there are lots of folks out there who have entered into their 40’s and above without the benefit of a strength training background and will rely on others for help.

If you do nothing before beginning a training program, Google that shit: Chronic Inflammation. Decide if it’s for you. If it isn’t make sure you have adjusted a written program to account for age; level of training (how many times have you seen a novice trying out an Advanced program, it’d be lulz if it weren’t so sad); life demands; genetic history. If your “trainer” has started you out so that you are so incredibly sore that you can’t function in life for days, fire them. Now. Seriously, do not give loyalty to idiots. Sure, they’ll call you a quitter. Who the fuck cares? Yes, moron, I’m quitting you and your stupidity. Thanks for recognizing you suck and I need to get so far away from you that your ignorant energy won’t permeate my life further. True story.

OH! And here’s a little PSA for you youngins’ who think you’re untouchable cuz you’re still young and firm and can drive yourself into the ground as much as you want: no you can’t. You’ll break down, sooner or later. There’s only so many checks you can write against your bankrupt body. Duh.

And ya know what? Getting old isn’t really that bad.  We have the benefits of being stronger than most but wiser and more comfortable with ourselves that the high-maintenance attention whoring young guns usually fail to own. Yeah us. We’re actually pretty awesome…

oldgene

Powerlifter Gene Lawrence sets world records as much as others his age get new prescriptions. He’s so beyond awesome that I feel bad for men who have no chance of being an ounce of how awesome he is.

…very awesome…

old2

The 60, 70, and 80’s age groups getting prepared to throw a 42# WOB in Scotland. Watching these men was amazing. Their competitive spirit is just as strong as all of ours and they’d get just as pissed with that Caber wouldn’t turn for them.

 …the awesomest.

Image:

The standard we should strive for.

They thought that athletes that worked out with my system wouldn’t be able to throw a ball because they’d be too muscle bound. Those are the misconceptions I had to go through for about 40 years.

Jack LaLanne 

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