Not So SAHM

Yearn for the burn

You know, I used to be in shape. In high school I was in shape because I was active all the time. In college I ran cross country for two years and was still pretty active. After college…not so much. And that was over ten years ago. Yikes.

One can only guess what has happened with my cardiovascular health.

There have been blips on the exercise radar since the hey days of activity. In Germany Du and I took the EAS Challenge, but my goal was to tone up, not really to improve my cardiovascular health. In New Mexico I walked around the block a couple of times when I was pregnant. In Virginia I did actually visit the inside of the gym. But having to drive to the gym and take a toddler and workout in the family room and deal with other people’s screaming, snotty kids became a little too much for me. I started partying with Denise Austin. But she’s an early bird and I am not. I quickly broke up with her.

I ran once while in Missouri and we all know what happened then (remember the talk of uteruses falling out?). I tried working out in my own bedroom before the girls woke up. But my bed had some kind of magnetic force field and my body just gravitated towards it. Plus, it was cold a lot in Missouri.

So here we are. A new state, a new phase in life, a nagging sense that I’ve got to get this heart in shape. We’ve lost our key card to the community fitness center. I’m too cheap to pay for a gym membership (that I know I wouldn’t use). And it’s getting cold outside. The only thing is to workout inside my house. Bo-ring. EXCEPT! for a little thingie called the Wii Fit!!

Is it ridiculous to think that a plastic box I step on magically attached to a fitness game will get my butt heart in shape? Not when you turn getting into shape into a video game! I’m counting on it. I can just imagine myself wanting to exercise because it will be fun. I’ll be teaching Reagan and decide that the next thirty minutes would be the best time for me to exercise. I’ll get my workout in while Reagan happily does her work and Ashlyn sits quietly on the floor coloring. (Does anyone see the irony in any of this?) It can happen. Yes Wii Mii can!

I’ll keep you posted,

Dear Diary…

Well the day came and went. 21 November. The deadline. And now I must wait.

My readers have been amazing in voting for my nomination for Best Diarist. When I began blogging I never dreamed I’d have more than eight readers. In fact, I remember one Saturday…probably about a year ago…I noticed that I did indeed have eight hits on my blog that day. And I was excited. The day before I had had zero.

Now I must wait. I still don’t know if I will actually be in the running for Best Diarist. Kevin Aylward says that finalists will be announced several days before the voting begins. So, I anxiously await several days before 08 December. Wow! What if I’m actually a finalist! Will my readers vote for me en masse again?

What is a diarist anyway? I write to you almost everyday…although I rarely call you diary. Actually, this is the first time I’m calling you diary. But you don’t mind do you? I chronicle the daily lives of those living under this roof. I chronicle the current happenings of America. I even try to get philosophical sometimes. I wonder if that’s the criteria that Kevin Aylward is looking for… I must wait.

Well, diary, that’s all for today. We’re going to get our pictures taken at this church whose grounds are so picturesque. Very typical southern photography. And then we’re finally having some friends over for dinner. Yeah, we’ve had a couple parties/get togethers, but this is the first family we’ve had over for dinner since moving here. I know, we’ve been slacking a bit…

So that’s all for today! Oh! Tomorrow, diary, I’m going to tell you about my newest foray into exercising!

Reading the whole post

I’ve had one person, ONE PERSON, comment to me about the tags that I’m leaving for my posts. Emilie commented today that the funniest thing about my last post was the tags. Thank you Emilie, you’re now my favorite person. I decided to start messing around with the tags to see if people would notice. You haven’t. Except for Emilie, my new best friend. I don’t get a whole lot of traffic to my posts from the big Pile O’ WordPress Tags that are somewhere in the WordPress Tagosphere so why not mess around a little? Let me have my fun please. It would be nice though if you read that fun. Maybe you have been and are just silently laughing, i.e. not telling me I’m humorous.

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The nominations for the 2008 Weblog awards have been extended until tonight. I have no idea when I’ll know if I’m actually going to be a contender for Best Diarist. Believe me, I’ll let you know. I don’t know if I can stand the suspense. Isn’t this the most exciting thing that’s happened this month!! (harhar)

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If you’re so inclined please click on that beautiful button below to submit your best post of the week. Don’t worry, I won’t reject you. Every post that is submitted gets linked up. I’m non-confrontational like that.

Have a great weekend! Your dry humorist,

The Dreadlock is Dead

Dr. Dreadlock
18 November 2008 – 19 November 2008
R.I.P.

: Dr. Dre(adlock)

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: Gross. It really does look like a rat tail.

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: Now she’s curling both sides

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Du got Ashlyn out of her crib this morning. He came into the living room holding Ashlyn in one hand and her dreadlock in the other.

“I found this in the crib.”

I retched a little.

Does this child not feel pain? Is that the explanation for her superpowers?

What I’m realizing is that there’s actually a very scientific reason behind the amazing overnight dreadlock growth and overnight dreadlock death. When she twirls her very fine hair into a little knot some of it is actually pulled from her head, but it gets wrapped up in the knot. I try to work the knot out every morning, but never manage completely. Yesterday she had managed to work all that extra unattached hair into a longer rat tail like substance. Almost like spinning cotton into yarn.

Hair yarn.

Anybody want to make a sweater for Polly Pocket?

I’m afraid the only recourse is to actually cut her hair into a really short bob so there’s nothing to twirl. After all, her hair isn’t going to grow longer if she keeps doing this to it. But then what would her coping mechanism be? Probably yanking Mommy’s earrings from Mommy’s ears.

What?

Many people play Wordless Wednesday. I do not like not talking on my own blog so I’m posting pictures and I’m gonna talk about them. You’d be lost without translation anyway.

Because can you imagine trying to interpret this?

Complete with a bite out of the apple. Who thought it would be a good idea to call a complex where people are living way to close to each other with walls way too thin Eden? I guess they’re actually giving you a hint of what’s to come if you sign a lease here. Since the bite has been taken out of the apple the damage has been done and this ain’t going to be the happy, perfect garden. No, these living arrangements will be full of what came after the fall. “Hey, I’m sorry if your neighbor is yellin’ at his wife at three in the mornin’ and it sounds like he’s in your room. You see the bite outta that apple? This ain’t paradise.”
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Second (and last) on your “What the…?” tour is a picture of Ashlyn’s hair:

Now she has never heard a Bob Marley song in her life, but I swear she’s growing dreadlocks. Does it shock you?

Now, we are in the south so technically it could be called an off-center rat tail. This is actually evidence of Ashlyn’s coping mechanism. When she’s tired or just generally stressed she starts curling that patch of hair. And with the weather being less humid it frizzes and mattes more easily. What I want to know is, is she really one of those dolls that the hair grows when you pull on it? I mean, look at how much longer that hair looks! If this is the secret to longer hair faster then I’ve just become a millionaire.

I’m tempted to encourage her to do this to all her hair. Wouldn’t that be awesome!?! Like the little five year old boy we used to know who had a mohawk. Who would mess with her on the playground with a head full of dreads? And less fuss for me too. Isn’t that what it’s all about anyway?
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So, the Eden Apartments picture got me thinking. That is a pretty “interesting” name for apartments. For anywhere really when you’re going to describe your Eden with a bitten apple. What are some of the weirdest place names you’ve seen? Let me know in the comments and we can all go “what the…?” together.

Comfort

Me: I’m really wanting a Coke right now.

Du: I’m guessing you’ve already had one today.

Me: Yes, but tonight’s an M&Ms and Coke night.

Du: Isn’t every night an M&Ms and Coke night?

Me: Whatever. Tonight they’re for comfort. Water just won’t do it.

Du: Use a straw.

Me: I want to listen to Tori Amos.

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In other, less random news: If you’re in the market for cool Christmas music look no further. Last night Du downloaded X Christmas (various artists) and we’ve been rocking out to it. It’s edgy, not sappy. I do like traditional music, but you’ve got to admit it’s nice to hear a different rendition every once in a while. The only song I don’t like is Christmas Shoes. Not because the music doesn’t sound good. I just don’t care for songs written for the express intent of making you cry. And I don’t cry when I hear it. I think of the thousand times that story was forwarded to me before it became a song. Barf. Otherwise it’s a great album. It’s got a good beat…and you can dance to it.