3 Things

 

• These three girls are the same age.  How mine is sooo much taller than the others I’ll never know.
• I have no idea what they were doing.  Or thinking.  I was simply asked to snap the picture.  I did as I was told.
• Friend on the left is wearing a tie “with a bunch of old men” on it.  Those “old men” are The Three Stooges.  They had no idea who The Three Stooges are!  I told them that the men are much like three 10 year old girls I know who are sporting curly mustaches, ties, and oversized dress coats.

They thought that was funny.

Things that make you go hmmm…(or OH MY!)

Andrew.  His new favorite Wii game is Spore Hero.  It is really a cute game.  You start as a basic alien and collect/win different body parts as the game progresses.  At certain points you can go back to your alien nest and apply these new parts to your alien’s body.  The parts are designed to give you better running, jumping and fighting abilities. 

It takes great concentration to add said parts to the proper area of the body.

 

Sitting at my computer, I knew what he was doing and I was ok with it.  He and I have played this game together many times.  It is a PG game.

After a few minutes he starts cracking up and calls me out to see what he’s done to his alien.  “Blaahhahhha, you’ve got to see this.  He looks SOOOO COOOOOLLLL.”

 

“I WISH I COULD HAVE THREE LEGS LIKE THAT!!!!”

After my eyeballs had been picked up off the floor and safely put back in their sockets, I told him I thought it would be a tad difficult for him to walk or run with three legs like that.

Then I locked myself in the bathroom and took a few deep breaths. 

The Joke (part 3)

Armed with my extra quadruple wide running shoes, a sporty looking, lightweight, running jacket thing (I might as well look like I know what I’m doing) and my iPod containing a new “Exercise” playlist full of up-beat/motivational music; the treadmill and I began our exercise regime.

Week 1 consisted of walking for 10minutes, jogging for 2.  Then walking for 10 minutes and jogging for another 2.  Week 2 would have consisted of walking 6 minutes, jogging 4.  Twice.  Except I got stuck on Week 1.  For 3 weeks.  (I told you I had never run anywhere except to the bathroom!)  Clearly I needed help.

The Lake Run is a 4.3something, something  mile run around Lake Bloomington on May 1st.  It is put on by The Lake Run Club; a group of running enthusiasts who get together and, well…..run I guess.  In anticipation of The Lake Run itself, The Lake Run Club enthusiasts group together and put on a “How to Run Class” for beginners called "Catch the Wave” (also called CTW).

The idea is to get someone, like myself, off the couch and running (and I use the term running very, very loosely here) enough so that, in theory, I could run jog walk shuffle the entire race on May 1st.  Sign me up!  I want to know the secret! 

So the class runs for about 10 weeks and we meet every Tuesday night for approximately an hour and a half.  The 10 weeks ends with the race itself.

Seven of the 15 women (not including the Pastor :-) signed on for  CTW and we braved the first class together last Tuesday evening. 

(…to be continued)

Pardon the Interruption.

Because AOL gives me such a hard time about uploading/sending my pictures and because I thought these pictures of both kids came out pretty well, I am posting them here for my family to see!

Yes I know she is wearing a turquoise headband with a green jersey Nina.  Matching  is not her thing.  But….

the fact that this one is actually IN the picture AND smiling more than makes up for the lack of style in the previous picture!

The Joke. (part 2)

As my iPod whispered sweet nothings into its speakers, I wiped away the cob webs that had accumulated from a year’s worth of neglect.   I promised, this time, to treat it with respect and dignity.  I swore (on Girl Scout’s honor) never to use obscene hand gestures ever again.  After a few test runs, it was clear the treadmill and I had buried the hatchet.

Next I had to make a withdrawal from my children’s college fund so I could purchase a pair of “running” shoes from a store that specializes in, of all things, running shoes!  Upon my arrival the man asked me what I was looking for.  ME:  “A pair of running shoes.”  HIM:  “Do you run frequently?”  ME:  “No offense but does this body LOOK like it runs anywhere but to be first at the buffet line?”  HIM:  Snicker, laugh, eye roll

After 45 minutes walking around the store with old shoes, no shoes and 17 different kids of new shoes he tells me there is a problem.  ME:  “Of course there is a problem because this whole thing is a joke.”  I tell him.  “Do you want to here it?  My joke?”  HIM:  “Not really.”  ME:  “Ok then.  What could possibly be a problem”  HIM:  “Well, your feet are sooooo wide that I do not sell a woman’s shoe wide enough to fit your “running” foot properly.”  ME:  Blank stare.  HIM:  “Soooo, that last shoe you tried on is a men’s seven and a half quadruple extra wide.  That is THE only shoe I have that will fit you properly”  ME:  “Of course.  Sooooo does this shoe come with a WIDE LOAD sign so people behind me will know not to get too close to the sides of my feet?”  HIM:  “The register is that way.”  ME:  “Thanks for your help.” 

     

(…to be continued)

The Joke.

And it was.  A joke.  That’s how it started anyway.  That day in January when Sara and I made a pact to get healthy and start exercising regularly.  That was the first part of the joke.  Neither of us were motivated enough to get the other to exercise consistently.  SARA:  “You wanna get together after school today and do that sit-up tape I have?”  ME: “Naaaa.”  SARA:  “Ok.  Talk to you tomorrow.”  It was laughable.

ME:  “Maybe we should sign up for The Lake Run.  Perhaps that will motivate us.”  This.  This was the second part of the joke and quite possibly the punch line.  Sara laughed.  She laughed hard.  We both laughed.  You know that laugh.  The “I’M PEEING IN MY PANTS” laugh.  It was pretty funny.  At that point the farthest I had ever run was, literally, to the bathroom.

Fast forward two weeks to a Pampered Chef party and a group of cackling women.  There it was again.  The Lake Run joke. Oh how we all laughed.  Our Pampered Chef lady did not laugh.  She had already signed up and had begun her training.  We laughed at her too but somehow, by the time everyone was parting ways, we had all jokingly agreed to do it together.  By the end of the week I had told everyone that would listen about my joke and before I knew it, 15 women (and a Pastor :-) jokingly agreed to do it too. 

Not wanting to be out done by any of my friends and for fear of ending up as the butt end of the joke on D-Day, I knew I needed to begin MY training right then!  

There is a treadmill in the basement.  That treadmill and I parted ways more than a year ago.  It was ugly.  I’m pretty sure I used a few four letter words and not so nice hand gestures the last time I was down there.   To begin my training, I had to befriend that old nemesis of mine.  So I descended the stairs armed with my Swiffer duster, a can of WD-40 and waiving a white flag.

(….to be continued.)

It's Cold Outside