Hannah and Sophie's Spring Break falls on the same week as Forrest's this year...this is only the second time in 6 years that this has happened.
We gave the kids a choice: camping at Big South Fork National Park with day trips to places like Rugby, Tennessee and a ride on an open-air train, or a trip to St. Louis.
I thought for sure the kids would choose St. Louis. Mark and I had taken the kids there when I was 7 months pregnant with Cammie. They LOVED it. There are a ton of cool things to do in St. Louis and most of them are FREE. Free...sounds good to me.
But, nope, they chose camping.
I spent three hours this morning researching campsites and day trips in and around the park. To find interesting things off the beaten path, I ordered the Kentucky version of this book:
http://www.amazon.com/Kids-Love-Tennessee-Exploring-Children-Year/dp/0972685421/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1201820889&sr=1-2
After all that, I find out that the train doesn't run between the first of December and the middle of April...which is two weeks after Spring Break.
Three hours...gone. Frustrating.
Anyhoo...I guess that means camping and trains will wait until the end of May.
St. Louis...here we come.
p.s. If you live in Tennessee, I highly recommend the book above. It has led us to all kinds of interesting places.
Thursday, January 31, 2008
Monday, January 28, 2008
It's gettin' hot in here...
Well, not here exactly, but at Hot Yoga.
A friend of mine had tried out a session at the new Hot Yoga studio, and suggested that I try it.
She said that it was "really relaxing" (not interesting me too much), that the temperature in the studio was set between 95 degrees and 105 degrees (yes Fahrenheit, and my minimal interest was fading fast), and that the humidity was set to 40 percent. My interest at this point...zero.
I guess she could tell by my highly arched eyebrows that I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of paying good money to die of a heat stroke. Then, she said the words that made my interest level go from zero to 100 in seconds. "You burn between 700 and 900 calories in one session".
Oh yeah, I'm interested. (I wonder how many Weight Watcher "activity points" that translates into)?
I ask what I need for the class, and she says a mat, sweat towel, comfortable clothes and water...lots of water.
Now, after my recent sessions with Ashley, I am aware of my physical limitations. I ask my (very fit) friend if everyone that goes to Hot Yoga looks like Madonna (who does Hot Yoga on a regular basis)? She says "no, there are all shapes and sizes and all different fitness levels in a session".
So, I head to Hot Yoga in sweat pants and a t-shirt, carrying my pink mat, 3 bottles of water and a hand towel. I arrive 10 minutes before the session begins (proud of myself for getting there early, because, surely you have to sign a waiver in order to exercise in a steam room).
The cheerleader that walked into the studio ahead of me had me rethinking this whole "all different fitness levels" thing. And when the very trim lady behind the counter looked at my sweat pants and then asked "this would be your first session, correct ?", I was all but over the whole experience.
I nod yes and Trim-counter-lady says that "first-timers" need to arrive 30 minutes before their sessions so that they can "acclimate to the extreme conditions in which the postures are performed"... could I please come back the next day?
Feeling an equal mix of disappointment and relief, I headed back out to my truck, yoga mat and water in hand.
I considered taking this as "a sign" that I should avoid Hot Yoga. Alas (still love that word), curiosity and stubbornness prevailed, and 4 days later, I went back to the studio.
This time, I arrived 35 minutes early and wore capri work out pants. Proud of myself for being prepared, I toted my pink yoga mat, 3 water bottles and hand towel in to try again.
Trim-counter-lady looks over my attire (doesn't flinch, which I considered minor victory #1) and says "You came back, good". Hmm...not sure how that was meant because her face is emotionless.
"Sign here" she says (see, I knew there had to be a waiver). Glancing at me again she notes "mat, water, good". "Do you have a towel" she asks.
Thinking that maybe all the steam in the lobby has blurred her vision, I wave my very-visible-hot-pink hand towel and say "Yep". (Chalk that up as minor victory #2).
Emotionless-trim-counter-lady gives me a little smile (I'll stop short of calling it patronizing), reaches under the counter and pulls out...an over sized beach towel. (Erase minor victory #2).
Trim-counter-lady comes out from behind the counter and says that she will help me get set up. We walk down a hallway, and before she opens the door to the Studio, she informs me that I should lie on my mat, eyes closed, focused on my breathing and that there is no talking in the studio. Okay, got it.
I set my waters down, unroll my mat and begin to lie down. She wags a finger at me, I step back, she unrolls the over sized beach towel and covers my mat with it. With a smile (genuine this time), she leaves me to breathe.
I breathe. It's dark. It's quiet. There is soft music playing...a flute with chirping bird noises in the background.
My ponytail is jabbing me in the back of the head. I sit up, take out my ponytail holder and pull my hair into a bun high on the top of my head. As I wrap the rubberband around my hair, it snaps and shoots across the room. Not good.
I lie back down and think that this is a definite sign that I should have paid attention to the sign I was given 4 days ago, and just let the whole Hot Yoga thing go.
Did I mention I was stubborn? I was not going back out into the lobby to ask for a rubber band and I was definitely not rolling up my mat and leaving, so, I laid there, breathing and cursing ponytail makers.
Others come in, ready there mats and breathe. I wonder a few times about the towel she laid on my mat.
The door opens and the instructor comes in and talks in a quiet, solemn voice. The voice instructs us to stand, feet together with our hands by our sides. When I stand, I find that the voice belongs to trim-counter-lady.
5 minutes into the session, I had already learned several lessons.
(1) the towel on my mat is there to soak up the gallons of sweat, otherwise, my yoga mat would be a pink Nike slip-in-slide
(2) I'm not as flexible as I used to be (big surprise there)
(3) there are actually people that have less stamina than I...this determined by the fact that
two people laid down on their mat at about minute four and stayed there for the next
86 minutes
While I performed most of the postures in a less than graceful manner, I did make it through the entire class. This in spite of the fact that I was constantly being slapped in the face by wild strands of soaking wet hair (did I say that I cursed ponytail makers everywhere).
The best part of the class was the very end. No, not because it was over, but because as we were laying on our mats, palms up, eyes closed, the instructor, walked around the room and dropped ice cold, lavender scented wash cloths into our hands. It smelled heavenly, and it cooled off the inferno that was my face.
When I got home, Forrest asked me why I took a shower at the gym and then put my sweaty clothes back on...that is how wet my hair was...it looked like I had just got out of the shower.
I went for a second session, with back up ponytail holders this time.
I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I have 8 more sessions in my trial package. Not sure if I'll go after those are used up. Just not sure.
One thing that I am sure about...it is definitely Hot.
There are positives...like those 700-900 calories that are left soaking into the towel. The first five minutes and the last five minutes are relaxing...of course these are times that you get to lay still, in the dark with soothing music. Also, you can actually clear your mind (which is supposed to help reduce stress) by practicing yoga. I happen to think this is because all of your thoughts are focused on keeping yourself from falling over due to heat exhaustion.
We'll see.
A friend of mine had tried out a session at the new Hot Yoga studio, and suggested that I try it.
She said that it was "really relaxing" (not interesting me too much), that the temperature in the studio was set between 95 degrees and 105 degrees (yes Fahrenheit, and my minimal interest was fading fast), and that the humidity was set to 40 percent. My interest at this point...zero.
I guess she could tell by my highly arched eyebrows that I was less than enthusiastic about the prospect of paying good money to die of a heat stroke. Then, she said the words that made my interest level go from zero to 100 in seconds. "You burn between 700 and 900 calories in one session".
Oh yeah, I'm interested. (I wonder how many Weight Watcher "activity points" that translates into)?
I ask what I need for the class, and she says a mat, sweat towel, comfortable clothes and water...lots of water.
Now, after my recent sessions with Ashley, I am aware of my physical limitations. I ask my (very fit) friend if everyone that goes to Hot Yoga looks like Madonna (who does Hot Yoga on a regular basis)? She says "no, there are all shapes and sizes and all different fitness levels in a session".
So, I head to Hot Yoga in sweat pants and a t-shirt, carrying my pink mat, 3 bottles of water and a hand towel. I arrive 10 minutes before the session begins (proud of myself for getting there early, because, surely you have to sign a waiver in order to exercise in a steam room).
The cheerleader that walked into the studio ahead of me had me rethinking this whole "all different fitness levels" thing. And when the very trim lady behind the counter looked at my sweat pants and then asked "this would be your first session, correct ?", I was all but over the whole experience.
I nod yes and Trim-counter-lady says that "first-timers" need to arrive 30 minutes before their sessions so that they can "acclimate to the extreme conditions in which the postures are performed"... could I please come back the next day?
Feeling an equal mix of disappointment and relief, I headed back out to my truck, yoga mat and water in hand.
I considered taking this as "a sign" that I should avoid Hot Yoga. Alas (still love that word), curiosity and stubbornness prevailed, and 4 days later, I went back to the studio.
This time, I arrived 35 minutes early and wore capri work out pants. Proud of myself for being prepared, I toted my pink yoga mat, 3 water bottles and hand towel in to try again.
Trim-counter-lady looks over my attire (doesn't flinch, which I considered minor victory #1) and says "You came back, good". Hmm...not sure how that was meant because her face is emotionless.
"Sign here" she says (see, I knew there had to be a waiver). Glancing at me again she notes "mat, water, good". "Do you have a towel" she asks.
Thinking that maybe all the steam in the lobby has blurred her vision, I wave my very-visible-hot-pink hand towel and say "Yep". (Chalk that up as minor victory #2).
Emotionless-trim-counter-lady gives me a little smile (I'll stop short of calling it patronizing), reaches under the counter and pulls out...an over sized beach towel. (Erase minor victory #2).
Trim-counter-lady comes out from behind the counter and says that she will help me get set up. We walk down a hallway, and before she opens the door to the Studio, she informs me that I should lie on my mat, eyes closed, focused on my breathing and that there is no talking in the studio. Okay, got it.
I set my waters down, unroll my mat and begin to lie down. She wags a finger at me, I step back, she unrolls the over sized beach towel and covers my mat with it. With a smile (genuine this time), she leaves me to breathe.
I breathe. It's dark. It's quiet. There is soft music playing...a flute with chirping bird noises in the background.
My ponytail is jabbing me in the back of the head. I sit up, take out my ponytail holder and pull my hair into a bun high on the top of my head. As I wrap the rubberband around my hair, it snaps and shoots across the room. Not good.
I lie back down and think that this is a definite sign that I should have paid attention to the sign I was given 4 days ago, and just let the whole Hot Yoga thing go.
Did I mention I was stubborn? I was not going back out into the lobby to ask for a rubber band and I was definitely not rolling up my mat and leaving, so, I laid there, breathing and cursing ponytail makers.
Others come in, ready there mats and breathe. I wonder a few times about the towel she laid on my mat.
The door opens and the instructor comes in and talks in a quiet, solemn voice. The voice instructs us to stand, feet together with our hands by our sides. When I stand, I find that the voice belongs to trim-counter-lady.
5 minutes into the session, I had already learned several lessons.
(1) the towel on my mat is there to soak up the gallons of sweat, otherwise, my yoga mat would be a pink Nike slip-in-slide
(2) I'm not as flexible as I used to be (big surprise there)
(3) there are actually people that have less stamina than I...this determined by the fact that
two people laid down on their mat at about minute four and stayed there for the next
86 minutes
While I performed most of the postures in a less than graceful manner, I did make it through the entire class. This in spite of the fact that I was constantly being slapped in the face by wild strands of soaking wet hair (did I say that I cursed ponytail makers everywhere).
The best part of the class was the very end. No, not because it was over, but because as we were laying on our mats, palms up, eyes closed, the instructor, walked around the room and dropped ice cold, lavender scented wash cloths into our hands. It smelled heavenly, and it cooled off the inferno that was my face.
When I got home, Forrest asked me why I took a shower at the gym and then put my sweaty clothes back on...that is how wet my hair was...it looked like I had just got out of the shower.
I went for a second session, with back up ponytail holders this time.
I'm still not sure how I feel about it. I have 8 more sessions in my trial package. Not sure if I'll go after those are used up. Just not sure.
One thing that I am sure about...it is definitely Hot.
There are positives...like those 700-900 calories that are left soaking into the towel. The first five minutes and the last five minutes are relaxing...of course these are times that you get to lay still, in the dark with soothing music. Also, you can actually clear your mind (which is supposed to help reduce stress) by practicing yoga. I happen to think this is because all of your thoughts are focused on keeping yourself from falling over due to heat exhaustion.
We'll see.
Monday, January 14, 2008
Weekend happenings...
Chloe's Brownie Troop had a sleepover at the DiscoveryCenter in Murphreesboro on Friday night. This was her first major outing since her surgery, so we didn't actually sleep over. We left at "lights out" (which she was NOT happy about). She was asleep before we hit the interstate.
We have 18 girls in our troop, and it can be...interesting at times. Fortunately for the city of Murphreesboro, the girls were locked in the building. We were the only troop there, so the girls had the run of the museum.
There were two college age girls in charge. I must say, they were very patient. They helped the troop make pizza's for dinner, make puppets and put on several (and I do mean several) different puppet shows.
Here's a pic of Chloe and her sock puppet named Chili. Chili was in the skit about fire safety. She reminded us that in case of a fire, we should "stop, drop and drop. Just drop!".
If you need any Girl Scout Cookies (who doesn't need Girl Scout cookies?) , email me. I will deliver in and around Nashville.
Due to all of the excitement of the past few months, we felt like the kids were in need of some good old fashioned quality family time.
A few years ago, we started Exploring. There are two ways to Explore.
One: We all load into the car and the kids take turns saying left or right, stay on (the interstate) or exit, until we end up at some interesting place. This mode of Exploring has led us to some really cool places. For example, the Shaker Museum in Kentucky.
On this particular adventure, we also found an Octagonal shaped house that was used in the Civil War as a Confederate lookout, and had ice cream at a dairy barn that was hosting an antique tractor pull.
The other way to Explore is to find a destination in a book or on the web and then find and do all of the historic and/or interesting things you find en route. Using this method, we have found several different waterfalls, museums, and festivals.
Saturday morning, we packed a picnic lunch and headed up the Natchez Trace Parkway in search of Merriwether Lewis' burial site.
We stopped at Loveless Cafe for breakfast but left for Shoney's when we found out that there was a 90 minute wait.
After breakfast, we spent the day wandering along the trace.
On the way home, thanks to the handy dandy navigation device, we discovered that we were only 20 minutes away from here:
We love to watch "Unwrapped" on the Food Channel. This place was featured on a show about Soda Fountains. We ate there a few years ago, and it was tasty. The kids were super excited when they realized where we were.
Here are a few pics from our day...
Friday, January 11, 2008
Catching up...
Ahh...let's see...what's new around here...
We made it through the Holidays.
Forrest was accepted into JPII.
The house is back into pre-holiday shape and looks bare to me.
And, we have officially closed our Infirmary.
Mark's mom moved into her new home last week. She's still in a wheelchair, but she has adapted to it. In fact, she's conquered it. She can do just about everything...except drive and walk. In a few weeks the doctor will replace her pink cast with a boot.
Chloe went back to school today. She has lost 12 pounds, and although her appetite isn't back to it's pre-surgery state, she is eating again.
She still talks a bit funny and the doctor wants to check her again in one month. If she doesn't sound better, another procedure may have to be performed. We are just believing that she will be fine by her next appointment.
As for my word for the year...discipline...it seems to be sticking.
One of my Christmas gifts from Mark was a Personal Trainer. I began working out with her on Tuesday.
I had to go in at 12 due to some other things going on that day. I was happy to find the gym mostly empty (there were only two other people working out). Ashley (my trainer) was busy with someone else when I got there, so I started "warming up" on the treadmill.
She came over, we chatted...well, she chatted, I answered in short syllables between huffs and puffs.
Now, one of my rules when selecting a trainer was NO BARBIES ALLOWED. I mean seriously, I already feel bad enough about my less than stellar physique...I definitely don't think a tee-tiny-perfectly-made-up-peppy-little-Barbie-in-a-skin-tight-work-out-outfit is going to help me in the ole self-esteem department.
Ashley, is fit. Ashley is trim. Ashley looks athletic. Ashley looks realistic. Ashley doesn't put on a full face of make-up to go to the gym to work out. I like Ashley.
First, we measure, weigh, and figure BMI. Joy of joys. Don't you love it when you read on the little American Heart Association chart that no, you're not "a little overweight", no, you don't have "just a few pounds to lose", and no, you're not "big boned". Nope, what you are is OBESE.
Now, that is just an awful, hateful word. Unfortunately, it's the truth. If only I were 5'7...sigh. Tall people get to weigh more and I really don't think that's very fair. I mean, they already get out of having to ask for help while reaching for things on the top shelf at the grocery, why do they get to eat more too?
Where was I, oh, yes, obese. So that was fun.
Then we were off to assess my "fitness". HA.
Fit. I was fit. I was strong. Now, I am an obese weakling. Nothing like a good ole dose of the truth to help in the DISCIPLINE department.
Three words threw my hopes of having retained a shred of said fitness while on my march to obeseness...WEIGHT BENCH LUNGES.
What's a weight bench lunge you ask?
You put your left foot up on a weight bench (that's about 24" off the ground) to form a 90 degree angle. You hold onto a shoulder height bar with your right hand. Then, this is the fun part, you push your left foot onto the bench to rise to a standing position on the bench, and tap your right foot on the bench. Replace right foot on the floor. Repeat. Fifteen times.
Go do bicep work.
Come back to weight bench. Repeat. 15 more times.
By the third and last set of 15, I was DYING.
Ashley, God bless her. She called me Wonder Woman. Really loudly. In an "outside voice" loud voice. Yes. She did. A few times. Especially during the lunges.
Did I say I was glad the gym was empty? Because, let me tell you, I did not look like Wonder Woman. I looked like Puff the Obese Dragon doing less than graceful lunges.
On Wednesday, I could barely, and I do mean barely, make it up and down the stairs in the house.
On Thursday, I was sure we would work my calves and not my quads. Oh no, not so. More quads. I can barely walk.
I can't decide if Ashley is my least favorite person...or my new most favorite.
We made it through the Holidays.
Forrest was accepted into JPII.
The house is back into pre-holiday shape and looks bare to me.
And, we have officially closed our Infirmary.
Mark's mom moved into her new home last week. She's still in a wheelchair, but she has adapted to it. In fact, she's conquered it. She can do just about everything...except drive and walk. In a few weeks the doctor will replace her pink cast with a boot.
Chloe went back to school today. She has lost 12 pounds, and although her appetite isn't back to it's pre-surgery state, she is eating again.
She still talks a bit funny and the doctor wants to check her again in one month. If she doesn't sound better, another procedure may have to be performed. We are just believing that she will be fine by her next appointment.
As for my word for the year...discipline...it seems to be sticking.
One of my Christmas gifts from Mark was a Personal Trainer. I began working out with her on Tuesday.
I had to go in at 12 due to some other things going on that day. I was happy to find the gym mostly empty (there were only two other people working out). Ashley (my trainer) was busy with someone else when I got there, so I started "warming up" on the treadmill.
She came over, we chatted...well, she chatted, I answered in short syllables between huffs and puffs.
Now, one of my rules when selecting a trainer was NO BARBIES ALLOWED. I mean seriously, I already feel bad enough about my less than stellar physique...I definitely don't think a tee-tiny-perfectly-made-up-peppy-little-Barbie-in-a-skin-tight-work-out-outfit is going to help me in the ole self-esteem department.
Ashley, is fit. Ashley is trim. Ashley looks athletic. Ashley looks realistic. Ashley doesn't put on a full face of make-up to go to the gym to work out. I like Ashley.
First, we measure, weigh, and figure BMI. Joy of joys. Don't you love it when you read on the little American Heart Association chart that no, you're not "a little overweight", no, you don't have "just a few pounds to lose", and no, you're not "big boned". Nope, what you are is OBESE.
Now, that is just an awful, hateful word. Unfortunately, it's the truth. If only I were 5'7...sigh. Tall people get to weigh more and I really don't think that's very fair. I mean, they already get out of having to ask for help while reaching for things on the top shelf at the grocery, why do they get to eat more too?
Where was I, oh, yes, obese. So that was fun.
Then we were off to assess my "fitness". HA.
Fit. I was fit. I was strong. Now, I am an obese weakling. Nothing like a good ole dose of the truth to help in the DISCIPLINE department.
Three words threw my hopes of having retained a shred of said fitness while on my march to obeseness...WEIGHT BENCH LUNGES.
What's a weight bench lunge you ask?
You put your left foot up on a weight bench (that's about 24" off the ground) to form a 90 degree angle. You hold onto a shoulder height bar with your right hand. Then, this is the fun part, you push your left foot onto the bench to rise to a standing position on the bench, and tap your right foot on the bench. Replace right foot on the floor. Repeat. Fifteen times.
Go do bicep work.
Come back to weight bench. Repeat. 15 more times.
By the third and last set of 15, I was DYING.
Ashley, God bless her. She called me Wonder Woman. Really loudly. In an "outside voice" loud voice. Yes. She did. A few times. Especially during the lunges.
Did I say I was glad the gym was empty? Because, let me tell you, I did not look like Wonder Woman. I looked like Puff the Obese Dragon doing less than graceful lunges.
On Wednesday, I could barely, and I do mean barely, make it up and down the stairs in the house.
On Thursday, I was sure we would work my calves and not my quads. Oh no, not so. More quads. I can barely walk.
Just thinking about how my buns and thighs are going to feel if I have to squat into a chair is enough to keep me standing and avoiding the toilet.
You know what though, it feels so good. Good to know that I am taking control and forcing my body back into shape.
I can't decide if Ashley is my least favorite person...or my new most favorite.
Wednesday, January 2, 2008
Another New Year
A few years ago, I gave up "resolutions". This, after I realized my "resolve" dissolved before January 3rd.
It seemed so un-American to give up a tradition of setting oneself up for failure... so, in the spirit of sticking to my American roots, I decided to go the non-conformist route and have "New Years Intentions".
At the time, there was some quote niggling at the back of my mind, but it never surfaced and I brushed it aside.
Last year, one of my intentions was to lose the 15 pounds that I had regained.
What did I do to follow through on that good intention...let's see...I developed an unquenchable thirst for $1 sweet teas at Mc Donalds (while fully intending to order a salad and un-sweet tea), canceled my membership at a gym that was 2 minutes from my house so that I could join one 17 minutes from my house (intending to go more often because it wasn't overcrowded like the first gym), ordering an appetizer, salad, entree and dessert just about every time we ate out (intending to take a bite of the appetizer and and dessert in an exercise of self-control, but eating my fair share instead).
As I stepped on the scale yesterday and realized that I now have, well, it's not necessary to name the horrifying number...suffice it to say I wish I only had those 15 to lose... I thought maybe I need a new word for the year.
While thinking about what that word should be, I started searching quotes. I found the one about intentions. Now I know I should have listened to that inner voice that was trying to get my attention.
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions". -Karl Marx
The wind was knocked out of me when I read that. Not because of the weight thing, but because of more serious "intentions" I had last year...intentions of reading my bible more, intentions of praying more than ever before, intentions of developing a relationship with Jesus beyond what I've ever had.
I found another quote, and had I read it while first stating my intentions, the results may have been different.
"Power is the capacity to translate intention into reality and then sustain it."
No resolutions or intentions this year, just a word to focus on.
DISCIPLINE.
"Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishments." -Jim Rohn
“If I want to be great I have to win the victory over myself... self-discipline.”-Harry Truman
I'm going to the gym today...more importantly, I'm spending some extra time with the Lord.
It seemed so un-American to give up a tradition of setting oneself up for failure... so, in the spirit of sticking to my American roots, I decided to go the non-conformist route and have "New Years Intentions".
At the time, there was some quote niggling at the back of my mind, but it never surfaced and I brushed it aside.
Last year, one of my intentions was to lose the 15 pounds that I had regained.
What did I do to follow through on that good intention...let's see...I developed an unquenchable thirst for $1 sweet teas at Mc Donalds (while fully intending to order a salad and un-sweet tea), canceled my membership at a gym that was 2 minutes from my house so that I could join one 17 minutes from my house (intending to go more often because it wasn't overcrowded like the first gym), ordering an appetizer, salad, entree and dessert just about every time we ate out (intending to take a bite of the appetizer and and dessert in an exercise of self-control, but eating my fair share instead).
As I stepped on the scale yesterday and realized that I now have, well, it's not necessary to name the horrifying number...suffice it to say I wish I only had those 15 to lose... I thought maybe I need a new word for the year.
While thinking about what that word should be, I started searching quotes. I found the one about intentions. Now I know I should have listened to that inner voice that was trying to get my attention.
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions". -Karl Marx
The wind was knocked out of me when I read that. Not because of the weight thing, but because of more serious "intentions" I had last year...intentions of reading my bible more, intentions of praying more than ever before, intentions of developing a relationship with Jesus beyond what I've ever had.
I found another quote, and had I read it while first stating my intentions, the results may have been different.
"Power is the capacity to translate intention into reality and then sustain it."
No resolutions or intentions this year, just a word to focus on.
DISCIPLINE.
"Discipline is the bridge between goals and accomplishments." -Jim Rohn
“If I want to be great I have to win the victory over myself... self-discipline.”-Harry Truman
I'm going to the gym today...more importantly, I'm spending some extra time with the Lord.
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