Out with the ... and in with the ...

Out with the old machine of torture...

 ...and in with the new torture contraption:

We sold our trusty (dusty, super heavy, hated/loved) treadmill to a young couple and bought a Concept 2 Indoor Rowing machine. It takes up a minimal amount of space, weighs 70 lbs., and is my new loved/hated thing. Rowing 10,000 meters one day did a few things: 1) impressed my husband so much (he's never rowed that much at one time) that he told his coworkers and now they're more scared of me than ever  2) made my bum cheeks exceedingly sore  3) gave me blisters  4) made me think that I could eat many many snickerdoodles. But seriously, very cool machine of torture. Since I went to the podiatrist and found out that my previously mis-diagnosed stress-fracture is actually posterior tibialis tendonitis, I'm in need of a low-impact cardio workout until I can get back on my feet again. The Concept 2 does just that. After the dreaded intervals I rowed this morning, my abdominals, back, shoulders, and arms are sore. And it feels good!

Out (but not really out -- more like up, as in upstairs) with the Clavinova that J bought me my first birthday after we got married...

 

 ...and in with the new (older, much older) piano that J learned how to play on, complete with the piano bench cover that his Grandma Squire stitched.

 

 The keys are cracked and it needs plenty of loving care, but the kids love it already! They have been begging for months for a real piano. We knew we wouldn't be able to afford one for years, but luck was with us. J's step-brother and his wife, who inherited the piano when J's mom moved, are moving to Canada and couldn't take the piano. Just like that -- ta! da! We have a real piano. I'm going to put a jar on the piano for us to save up to get it fixed. The Clavinova we moved up to the play room.

Out with the lo-o-o-o-ong hair that stays in a pony tail two seasons out of the year...

...

...and in with the short and sassy (or, as my kids have called it "Bruce Lee hair" or "Lego hair")

Phase 1 of the haircut took 20" off and had more of a punk-mullety look to it. When I told my friend/hairstylist that it looked a little too "Pat Benatar," she didn't know who I meant. It must mean that I am old, so maybe this lopping off of the hair is a mid-life crisis thing. Better than climbing a 20,000' mountain in 40 degrees below 0 weather though. Right, J? :)