Bo is pacing around the house like a crazy person, and I have no idea why. Do you think a dog can get brain damage from the heat? It's so darn hot in North Carolina that I wouldn't be surprised.
I am doing everything in my power to excuse myself from working out. My friend told me the other day that she never wants to work out but never regrets doing it. It's true for me, too. Unfortunately, I can't get myself to act on it right now. But I've told myself that after I get this blog post finished, it's off to pop in a DVD of good old Jillian. Watch out. This might be a long one.
Bloggity blog blog.
Brian's been attacked by chiggers. I told him this is one downside to living in a tropical paradise, and he laughed bitterly. "I hate this place," he said for the four-hundred-and-thirty-fifth time last night as I dabbed calamine lotion on each bite with a Q-tip. The pink, runny lotion dried slowly and as he turned over, pink streaks covered the couch. "I really hate this place," he repeated.
Let's take a moment of silence for his itchiness.
Disclaimer: This photo is not a photo of his current condition. This is from last summer. But it's not much different this time around.
Thankfully, he wasn't too miserable for MOVIE TUESDAY!, something that sounds like a tradition but is really just one way of enjoying being grown-ups and picking our own bedtime. We watched Doubt, the sort of movie that I rather like and that Brian does not like very much at all. In fact, I think I could have only liked it more if the nuns were the singing kind and there were some Von Trapp children thrown into the mix, but then the hope of getting Brian to sit through it would have vanished completely. Ah, well, he can pick the movie next time MOVIE TUESDAY! rolls around.
Okay. I have run out of random thoughts. I'm going to go do this. I'm going to add years to my life. I'm going to go give myself a natural high from workout endorphins. I'm going to go make myself look great.
AUGHH! I don't want to go work out.
Wednesday, August 5, 2009
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
Monday, August 3, 2009
And I think to myself, "Self, what a wonderful world."
So it’s Saturday afternoon, not too hot, which is shocking for August 1st in North Carolina. And I’m taking Bo out front to pee, since our yard isn’t fenced, and I decide to walk uphill to the end of the driveway to get the mail, which thankfully still comes on Saturdays even though rumor has it that costs are going up too high for the USPS to keep on doing that.
And I grab the mail and muscle the mailbox closed because ever since Bad Drivers #1 through #14 turned around in our driveway and slammed into it with their cars it won’t close very well, and I turn and call Bo who’s walked a ways down the road. And he turns back and leaps toward me and picks up a stick on the way, so as I start walking back down the driveway, he’s hopping around me with his new toy and I ask him, “Do you want to go see Brian?” and he darts away toward the house to get back to his favorite person in the world.
And I look ahead of me and I see my happy, handsome dog dashing toward my home – my cheery blue house with the bright red door, the house I own and live in – and I see the sunlight glimmering through the bright green trees onto the gravel below, casting spectacular shadows, and I feel the breeze in my hair. And I’m walking up my driveway, knowing I have a husband inside who loves me and a few bills in my hand that we have to pay this week and a few chores inside that I have to finish, and I think to myself, this is exactly what my eight-year-old self pictured being an adult would feel like, and it’s perfect.
And I walk inside and tell Brian this realization and he says with conviction, “That’s right! I’ve given you everything you could possibly want.”
And I know he’s joking in his manly, Brian way, but it’s true.
And I grab the mail and muscle the mailbox closed because ever since Bad Drivers #1 through #14 turned around in our driveway and slammed into it with their cars it won’t close very well, and I turn and call Bo who’s walked a ways down the road. And he turns back and leaps toward me and picks up a stick on the way, so as I start walking back down the driveway, he’s hopping around me with his new toy and I ask him, “Do you want to go see Brian?” and he darts away toward the house to get back to his favorite person in the world.
And I look ahead of me and I see my happy, handsome dog dashing toward my home – my cheery blue house with the bright red door, the house I own and live in – and I see the sunlight glimmering through the bright green trees onto the gravel below, casting spectacular shadows, and I feel the breeze in my hair. And I’m walking up my driveway, knowing I have a husband inside who loves me and a few bills in my hand that we have to pay this week and a few chores inside that I have to finish, and I think to myself, this is exactly what my eight-year-old self pictured being an adult would feel like, and it’s perfect.
And I walk inside and tell Brian this realization and he says with conviction, “That’s right! I’ve given you everything you could possibly want.”
And I know he’s joking in his manly, Brian way, but it’s true.
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