It’s an exciting day for Ms. Langley. I really love her music, and clearly, I am not alone. It was a real treat to hear cover bands cover her songs in Nashville.
In honor of her breaking the Billboard record (and because this video is pure art)— I just have to:
And yes, I do hope she and Theo are magically soulmates. I am part of that crew. Ha. Never forget.
It’s raining inside of my train car. It’s not supposed to be raining in here, but there is a steady drip-drip. An Asian girl held out her hand and laughed, trying to catch a drop of the mystery liquid falling.
I almost opened my umbrella in here, but instead moved to another seat. Can you imagine an open umbrella inside of a train? I guess we’ve seen weirder things.
On my way to the train today (I was scurrying along), I ran into a woman who physically posed as an obstacle in front of me (not letting me pass) and showed me an address on her phone. It was an address to a building near the water. She had a ways to walk. I gestured for her, telling her to keep going straight, and she started yelling at me angrily that she didn’t speak English. No good deed goes unpunished.
I plugged in the address into her maps app, which speaks her language, and she almost threw her phone at me. She, I guess, wanted me to personally walk her to the building that was blocks and blocks away during rush hour as I was trying to get to work. I DON’T SPEAK ENGLISH, she continued to yell at me. Can you read a map in your language? I asked and physically removed her from how she was blocking me at the scaffold entrance. She pouted, and I ran off wondering what insanity people are today. They are straight up unhinged.
Do I look matronly in this shirt, I asked myself catching a glimpse of myself in the window. Too late, I decided as I continued to semi-jog down the sidewalk.
I pulled up the Joe and the Juice app, and they were out of a key ingredient for every protein shake and smoothie. Why they opened today is beyond me.
I am back on the train, next to a girl with a blueberry iPhone case. She is sitting under the constant drip of the train. It’s raining inside.
I was reminded about time by Gary Vee and Andy Frisella. Andy Frisella, creator of 75hard and 1st Phorm, is always an inspiration.
Andy Frisella shared this photo of him at age 36, ten years ago. Sometimes, all we need to do is recognize the time we have and take responsibility for it.
Andy Frisella then.Andy Frisella now.
And it’s not just about the physical transformation. Let’s be real, the physical followed the mental transformation.
After rain, NYC has felt considerably cooler this week. It’s nice to feel a breeze when you walk. Bless.
IG is filled with two camps— “last of summer” and “it’s fall”.
I finished Nicole Sach’s book, and it never got better. I don’t think I have read a more unstructured repetitive book in my life. I do not recommend. I heard about her work on a podcast, and I do believe in Dr. Sarno’s work, but that book is not it. It needed an editor. I got nothing from it.
This week, I started using Gente creams. Let me tell you, that green one makes you feel like you are legit on fire. It’s impressive. #feeltheburn
I got my RELOAD Ladder badge!
I will continue on with Team Endure and the Max challenge starts in September. I am really enjoying the lifting and progressive overload. I am about nine and a half weeks into progressive, programmed strength training. All eyes on October.
I have been fangirling over Dr. Ewoma all week. I found out (tardy) that Camila Coelho separated from her husband in May. Made me sad— neither here nor there. Just surprised me. The only thing I will say is many of these women (Mimi Ikonn, Camila— I can name a few more) look so refreshed and gorgeous post-separation. They look more relaxed and even glow more. Not sure what is happening in marriages, but it’s interesting that women seem to be thriving outside of it. Have you noticed this pattern? Women looking better before or after a marriage? I don’t know what happens in the in-between… Hoping we in the married camp can get our sh*t together to show a level of thriving, too.
There is a trend on IG of asking ChatGPT to describe you in one word. Mine said: Magnetic. 💫 Damn. I knew it would pay off to be nice to AI. (Please and thank you).
Here are this week’s favs:
This podcast was insane. The stories were WILD.
“A woman who does not know how to make money is a desperate one.” Dr. Ewoma
Jessica Simpson.
“Beauty is not frivolous.” Dr. Edie Wadsworth
This clip made me laugh so hard:
Chris in every shot. Ron mustering his strength to throw the phone. This Sofia Resing outfit is giving Florida.
“Become willing to see the hand of God and accept it as a friend’s offer to help you with what you are doing.” Julia Cameron
I woke up from a nightmare, this morning. It reminded me of what it felt like when the COVID vaccine mandates ended in NYC.
I haven’t said much about Anthony Fauci pleading the fifth a million times, but I have been paying attention. I wonder who else has been paying attention.
These hearings and testimony give PTSD, but it is important not to look away. We are all haunted by images of those floor stickers placed six feet apart that say “Stand Here”, that still remain on many surfaces and sidewalks in NYC and the stupid “Vax Champ” merch, now exclusively worn by homeless people. Vaccine mandate certificates hang on windows, bleached by the sun like relics of a not too distant past.
Because of this man, power hungry politicians who teamed up and many who simply fell in line and blindly obeyed and believed, chaos disrupted many lives. Jobs lost, educations halted, time with loved ones lost and lives lost. People had to move to be able to work and be a part of society, if they decided not to obey.
Evie Magazine brought a throwback:
“A newly released January 2021 text message from Dr. Anthony Fauci shows that he was questioning whether the second dose of the Covid-19 vaccine could be associated with miscarriage during the first trimester of pregnancy. That same year, Evie scrutinized the data on COVID vaccines and miscarriage while public health officials assured pregnant women the shots were safe.”
I remember this article on Twitter. After reading the study myself, I reposted the concerns, and my account was flagged or frozen— I don’t remember, but there was censorship. Ironically, many of us were censored for saying objective truth.
It was a strange time, where trusted doctors fell in line to not lose their licenses. I stopped following the work of certain doctors because I didn’t feel their conclusions were honest or correct. (I won’t mention names here, but I was deeply disappointed given their research on endometriosis and other women’s health issues). They were wrong (and there was data out at that time to prove they were wrong). They pushed narratives out of fear and self-interest.
People who normally questioned things seemed to suddenly not question anything. People blindly believed or fell in line due to the threat of some sort of loss— yes, that is called coercion. Andy Frisella remembers the notices he got from the government threatening a $700,000 fine per employee for his business for being noncompliant. He told them to f*** off.
The polarization around the COVID vaccine destroyed relationships. People were demonized for exercising bodily autonomy. It was such an absurd time. I wasn’t even allowed to go to church. I took my chances and survived the “winter of death.” Segregation became the norm, and people wished death on others. Remember the camps in Australia? The Canadian truck drivers and frozen bank accounts? All for a vaccine that didn’t stop transmission and caused a whole host of health issues.
Then, came the aftermath of the vaccine mandates. I can say with a straight face that the unit where I worked suddenly became disabled. Reasonable accommodations exploded. Cancer numbers grew, heart attacks started happening in young people— many things changed. There were almost no weeks where I wasn’t covering for someone. Outside of those in my personal sphere, we had streaks of young athletes just dropping dead on fields. People still arrogantly say all of that was in our heads. There is such a refusal to accept any kind of evidence that is seen with your own eyes.
Some places, like Florida, were smart. They kept living life as usual. They were demonized for it.
This time changed me, angered me and really solidified certain convictions. I was clear on what was not up for compromise. I was angry that I was not allowed in the hospital when my father-in-law was ill. I reflected publicly on leadership. I couldn’t go into restaurants because I had no papers to show. I attended prayer vigils for those in litigation fighting for their freedom and livelihoods. God preserved my own job in a time of mass firings and hiring freezes. I lost friends.
What is sad is that we are here. There is no accountability, just a pardon by a president (victim of elder abuse— you cannot convince me otherwise), who had zero capacity. Just a “doctor” with blood on his hands pleading the fifth, able to return home to his stacks of magazine covers and profiles on himself. He’ll return to his pension and the funds he gathered off the backs of tax-paying citizens. People are so distracted that there is no true outrage except from those who were outraged all along.
I guess what did we expect? We don’t even hold accountable those who exploit children and those who commit sexual abuse. We have criminals running loose all over major cities. What accountability? There is none. Society has bought this no-accountability package, and it likes it. Stupidity, wanton disregard and malicious willful ignorance is rewarded. It votes for no accountability over and over again. Look at LA. Look at NYC. I say this over and over again, but this all happened because people did nothing. The majority went along with it, and left a defiant minority. God bless, Rand Paul.
What is left is a path to have it happen again and again. But also left is a whole group of people who are wide awake and not backing down.
How civil people grip a subway pole. Image via Pinterest. Apparently, as this is on Pinterest, we should vision board it. That’s where we are at.
By: Gabriela Yareliz
Some days on the train, we fight for our lives. Other days, we fight for our pride.
There was a man who was leaning his whole body against a pole I needed to hold onto. Butt, torso, shoulders and head. I have never seen a body contort more to make so much contact with a pole. Pure stupidity. I need to hold onto this pole on the packed train because I am short, and there is absolutely nothing else I can reach that will prevent me from falling.
Defiantly, I slide my hand to the most reasonable height on the pole given my backpack and umbrella hanging off of my arm. I grip the pole like my life depends on it (my balance does). Listen, my core is strong, but I am not risking the integrity of my limbs to train surf. The man doesn’t look at me, but he presses into the pole harder. Are you kidding me? I wonder. I grip the pole harder and stiffen my hand. He backs off a bit. At the next stop, he tries again. It’s like he wants me to let go and give up.
Joke is on him because I don’t give up, and now, I am pissed off. I am dying holding onto this damn pole. The pole will be cut and placed in my casket when I pass. I stiffen my hand again and refuse to move it. There is nowhere to move it unless I want his butt pressed against my hand. And newsflash, I don’t want to touch this man at all.
The pole drama continues until we reach a major connecting station. Some of the train gets off. He quickly snags a vacant seat because every woman on the train be damned. I grip the pole.
He gives me a dirty look. I give him a smirk. I put on hand sanitizer dramatically to get his sweat and stupidity off of the back of my hand. My station arrives, and I walk off, shoulders back, victorious.
The world is filled with jokes disguised as people. This one was pretending to be a man.
When I was growing up, my parents had a bread machine. It was a white cube machine. I have no recollection as to how it emerged or when. I just remember it.
You would place the ingredients from whatever bread you wanted in the book that came with the machine, and close the lid, and, then, you would wait.
The smell that would come out of that bread machine was mouth-watering. It would fill the whole house. One minute, I was playing, and the next minute— I felt like I was going to break into the bread machine for a piece like a deprived raccoon.
Then, when it was ready, you had to let it cool. Eating the warm bread with butter— a delight.
I was recently in a Chinese bakery, and they have these cube-like spongy breads that remind me of the bread that would come out of that bread machine. Yesterday, I had a delicious bread with butter. There is just a pure delight when it comes to eating a good piece of bread with butter.
Every house should smell like bread. They should make a candle for that. Or, we should all get bread machines. Do they still make those? (I looked, and they do. Someday, when I have counter space, I will get one). Egg bread was the best.
May we all remember the simple delights of life, every day. Bread and butter being two delights.