Of iPhones & 90 X's

Apparently, I have been slacking off yet again. I hit a good patch where I'm blogging quite a bit, and then I hit a dead end. Not because I don't have anything to say. As Elisa would say, when do I not have something to say? But if I'm going to blog, it has to be worthwhile. I have to be able to spit something out that is mildly coherent, and timely to what's going on in our lives. So while I had little snippets of sarcasm pouring through my veins over the last month, nothing really spoke to me.

And in the span of about 2 hours, two topics came to me. One involving the new addiction in my life. The other...well, let's just say its become an addiction of the lesser enjoyment.

Apparently, there's an app for that

Quick history lesson. After Elisa and I got married, we decided to leave Verizon Wireless. Verizon was just too expensive and we could get a great deal with AT&T. It was much cheaper. So we made the switch. What we didn't know, was that "cheaper" apparently meant that our cell phones would only work using the old "two soup cans connected with a string" technique. It was so bad that the typical 15-20 minute commute home would have anywhere from 10-12 call drops. Imagine a conversation while Elisa was in the middle of her pregnancy. I spent half of our two year contract wondering if she had experienced smoething catastrophic at work, and the other half thinking that she didn't understand my sarcasm and was suddenly angry with me and providing the "silent treatment" as a punishment.

So two years later, we learned our lesson and trudged back to Verizon. Sure, we were paying more but we also talked more too. And we no longer had to talk like the Micro Machines guy, trying to get every possible word into a conversation before the inevitable call drop. And what happens when we move to Verizon? A little slice of heaven called the iPhone is released. I'm pretty boring - I've never done drugs. But I get a sense of what an addict would feel like if their dealer held their stache right over their head and told them it would only be there's once their two year contract was up, and the quality of the stuff wouldn't be that good anyway. Wait...did I just wrap an addiction to drugs into an analogy with a 2-year cell phone agreement? And equate AT&T's network to less than ideal drug quality? Maybe the blog should end before my brain explodes.

So Elisa and I waited patiently. I scoured Google News for a hint of a "Verizon iPhone". I felt comforted by the fact that people tweeted about the Verizon iPhone as much as Just Bieber, and every time our 2-year contract came up, we considered the trek back to AT&T but always realized that a phone that can't actually make calls longer than...well, I'll leave that analogy to you. But I know where your mind went. You should be ashamed.

And then it happened. The news. Verizon was getting an iPhone. In fact, I think the clouds actually parted and the iPhone itself descended from the heavens. Okay, actually the price tag fell down first with a credit card swiper. But that's not the point. Our perseverence had paid off. We could get an iPhone with actual service that allowed us to....gulp...talk! So we counted down the days, and watched our Blackberry phones start to fall apart. Luke did his part by bending my charging cord to the point of oblivion, and Elisa's battery had multiple personalities. One day, she would use the phone a lot and have a full charge by nightfall. The next day, she would barely touch her phone and the charge would be gone by mid-morning. I still think her time of Facebook was somehow directly related, but I wouldn't tell her that. Oh wait.

A couple weeks ago, we went and got iPhones. Elisa was amazing. She had been putting money away for months to be able to pay for them. Love you sweetie. And since then, the iPhone has made me an addict. I'm not so ashamed to admit that I have downloaded just under 60 applications on my phone so far. I have apps for my news, sports, games, video games, food, shopping, and weather. I even have apps that tell me when there are new or free apps. I can't wait for the app that selects my next apps without me even deciding that I need them. I've found myself addicted to Angry Birds. I've found myself hopelessly enjoying how quick and clear Facebook is. But, shockingly, this entire post isn't about the iPhone (which I disclose 4.5 pages later). It's about awa. And bort. And toilets. And aired.

Confused? You shouldn't be. Because I had the great idea of Elisa and I downloading the same application. A game we could play together. We tried Words With Friends (the free version), which was enjoyable, but Scrabble ended up being $.99. Now some quick backstory here. Elisa pretends to not be smart. She says she doesn't know or remember as much as me. I know she's lying. She's like a ninja. She lulls you into a false sense of security, and then wallops you while you sleep. Elisa = Ninja. Trust me. So we start Scrabble, and I win the first game. Elisa is visible frustrated. She starts putting herself down, so I suggest we play one more game. This one was so close...and Elisa won. By one point. I think the final score was 233 to 232. So we play again. I like the sport of it. I think it's a fun time, and it's feeding my addiction...after all, it is one more app I get to download!

But it's the third game that she pulls out the Ninja. The game starts out simple enough. The game is close. We trade words like VIBE, CONE, GUIDE, SAD, WIFE. And then the ninja begins. GORES. TOILETS (yes she used all 7 letters in one word). I try to keep up. I'm about 30 points behind. And she hits me with BORT. Are you kidding me? BORT!? Is that even a word? WHIM. AIRED (she claims that she got lucky). And my personal favorite, AWA. By this point, I could have gotten a triple word score on ZQUVX and I would have lost. And what does she do? She giggles. Every time she hits submit, she says "Don't hate me" or "Forgive me". She is now the queen of Scrabble. Beware if you play with her. You will fall to BORT AWA. Mark my words.

Not 1, not 2...we have 90 Xs

For those of you wondering, we haven't given up on 30 day challenges. We actually decided to try something more - three 30-day challenges in a row. In the form of P90X. Elisa has wanted me to blog about this for quite awhile, and I'm not exactly sure why I haven't. Maybe it's because by the time I'm done with P90X each night, I can barely function. It's hard enough to complete the act of sleeping, let alone trying to write something that is entertaining. but we sit at Day 37 of 90. And Elisa and I haven't missed a day. I'm very proud of us for that, because P90X gives you about 60 reasons every night to quit. This is brutal. You don't think it will be that bad. You think you can handle it. And then you realize you are doing a mix of push ups and pull ups for an hour, without a break. You jump so many times in Plyo that you're afraid you'll squat yourself into the fetal position for life. And don't get me started on Yoga. I'm thankful that I actually exercise alone these days, because I'm sure the adjectives that would describe a lanky 6'2" skinny man doing balance postures would make the finest YouTube video sensation since Star Wars Kid or the "My Yah Hee" Nerd.

And then there's Ab Ripper X. He's not lying when he says you do 349 moves. Okay, he's lying when he tells you that you just did them, because I don't think it's humanly possible. But a funny thing has started to happen. I feel addicted to the results. Not the workouts. I still struggle to find the desire or motivation with every workout. But the results are compelling and exciting. And as much as Elisa says she doesn't see the results, I see them in her. She's always been in good shape, so maybe the results are just not as extreme as they feel on me. It's because I've been the skinny (well, except for the sympathy 15 I put on with our pregnancies), lanky, uncoordinated, and undefined geek. It's okay. I admit it. Now, I find myself proud of the results I'm getting, and more confident in my appearance. Yes, I'm still lanky. I'm still a geek (I'm 32 and still play video games, for God's Sake), but now I'm addicted. I'll see myself in the mirror and think that a moquito got hungry. That the term six pack doesn't just apply to beer. That I have arms that may be more fitting to use as arms, rather than convenient toothpicks after dinner to get food out of my teeth.

The point? If my theory on 30-day challenges is correct, we, as human beings need to experience something for 30 days before we realize the impact that it has on us. At that point, we can either slip back into our old ways, or we can embrace the fact that our bodies and minds want us to change and we now have proven that we can do it. With over 30 of our 90 little Xs already out of the way, I think the biggest lesson I've learned is that the challenges are what you make of them. And beyond the one-arm push ups, the corn cob pull ups, the downward dogs, and the Star Blocks, there is someone in me and in Elisa that want to be healthier and better people. We still stay away from most fast food. I still haven't touched an Oreo for 60 days. And now I have confidence in the most difficult workout set I've ever tried.

Of course, maybe the best thing for me now would be a 30-day challenge to not download a new app for my iPhone. Hey, maybe there's an app for that...