Day 2:

Lap Swimming

Loved it!

(And the kids didn't seem to mind the extra pool time.)

My 30 Minutes for 30 Days Variety Workout Challenge

I like to play games.

And I like Challenges.

Unfortunately, I LOVE cheesecake.

Fortunately, I love to exercise.

I am in the mood for a game/challenge, so I made up this game:

Everyday for 30 days I will add a 30 minute workout of some sort to my life.

RULES!:

1. Add a 30 minute workout of 1 specific activity each day for 30 consecutive days

2. Each workout must be different from the last.

3. No Repeats

I am good for the first 2 rules - the third one will require some imagination after the first few days.

(I'll tell you right now that this is supposed to be fun for me, so I will just plan to run tomorrow so that I can cross that right off my list. For me, Running = No fun! )

Play with me if you want to! And, hook me up with some comment suggestions/ideas/favorite workouts!

(Don't say "Run". Resist.)

Let the fun begin!

Today = Day 1: Step Aerobics!

Done!

Joey Apologizes

Listen to this:

My children are always impressing me.

My son + 1 piano + 1 microphone = 2 much fun!

Joey (Age 11) One Republic "Apologize"

We Are Having A Small Problem.

I will begin by telling you it's official: We have moved!

Several big men in an over-sized truck, who walk unusually slow for humans (because they are paid by the hour?), moved all of our things to our new home.

Our New home = 5 miles from old home.
Our New home = Beautiful, happy place.
Our New Home = About 1/2 size of Old Home...

This brings me to our small problem. More specifically our small closet problem. I think all of the square footage smaller that our new house measures came directly out of the master bedroom closet.

Items to Consider:

Exhibit A: The Small Closet Is Already Jam Packed With Items. Note hanger density.

Exhibit B: Three Empty Wardrobe Boxes Have Already Been Unpacked Into Said Closet.

Exhibit C: Six FULL Wardrobe Boxes Are Still Waiting To Be Unpacked Into Said Closet.

Paul says there is only one solution.

*Paul's solution is not that he is moving out of my closet.
*Paul's solution involves things leaving the closet.
*Paul's solution implies that the things leaving the closet may not belong to Paul.

So you see, when I said we are having a small problem what I meant is we are having a HUGE problem that may indicate A/Therapy or B/Post Traumatic Stress Disorder for one member of this household before we are through here.

C'mon all you HGTV enthusiasts - Neat freaks - Smart Girls and Organization Divas - Bring me some ideas!!

(Or a map to the secret door leading to the second closet?)

On A Lighter Note:

Casualties of the Move:

Only one:

The Walmart desk. (Oh, darn.)
(And perhaps one hulky moving man's t-shirt, as I am sure sweat must calcify at some point.)

Survivors of the Move: My darling buffet, and our armoir - affectionately known as "the monster". He lives!

Seriously though, the closet is a problem, and I am fishing for solutions. Help!

Craigslist.

I love it.

That's all.

Case in point: My Dining Room

Can you name all three things I bought on Craigslist in this room on the first try?

Can you identify the most expensive item in the room?

How about the least expensive?

(Here's a hint: The least expensive item is not the sand in the candle holders.)

(P.S. I like this game.)

Having trouble?

THAT is why I love Craigslist.

The End.

I Do Not Like Green Eggs & Ham...

Or shopping at Walmart.

Reason #1,549,654 why I am not a fan of Walmart shopping:

Greeters, who wave and make nice with me as I make my way into the store, but watch me closely with beady eyes as I check out my purchases with the cashier. They continue to eyeball me as I make my way directly from the cashier toward the exit - one straight line with my receipt in hand -

Until...

Until I get too close. They must make their move - blockading the exit

.

(which is, incidentally, located on the left instead of the right side of the road forever disturbing my Chi - Reason #1,549,653)

.

with their blue-vested, smiley-face-wearing bodies until I prove (to them personally) that I did, indeed, pay for that super-sized jumbo pack of pampers that could not possibly have fit into a shopping bag (but happens to be buried beneath 43 of them).

True story.

Meanwhile, in a land far away...

I strolled right out of another, more favored superstore (Target) with a lamp and a truckload of Charmin Ultra at the bottom of my cart that I had forgotten to place on the cashier belt (at Target) while I was wrestling tired, hungry children out of the candy aisle. And nobody stopped me once (at Target, Target, Target) (!). It was rather inconvenient to realize in the parking lot, once I double-checked my receipt, that I had to unpack those same tired and hungry children from the car and go back into the store. And wait in line again. To pay for those items. But I did do it. Gladly. And I don't need to be greeted by people with stickers to keep me on the straight & narrow.

Also a true story.

I do not like green eggs and ham. I do not like them Sam I Am.

The Third Degree

You've heard of it, haven't you?


Seen it on Law & Order?
























That relentless, high-pressure questioning that gets a suspect really sweating until he reaches his breaking point and pours his soul out (along with any confessions) to the interrogators -


You know - "The Third Degree".





I don't know why it's called the third degree. It was 119 degrees outside a couple of days ago according to my dashboard thermometer. Now THAT is some serious heat.



Put me out in that kind of heat and I will confess whatever you want to hear.

Weight?

Age?

What I really thought about Johnny Depp in Don Juan?


Do your worst.


Jail cells are air-conditioned, no?

















I hereby declare that the third degree concept be scrapped in favor of "The 119th Degree". Because I like to declare things.


And, because I don't think it gets much hotter than that... at least I hope not.


Or I am moving.
Again.
You know I will...

Free Samples, Anyone?

What?! Where?!



I am quite aware that when put in the same sentence, the very words "free" and "sample" poise most members of my family for a stampede.



I'll admit that while "free" is still my favorite price, I do not love free samples. Free samples fall into two categories for me:



1. Needless clutter.

or

2. Needless calories.



I'm sorry.
I realize that when it is hot outside I am uncharacteristically cranky.

And it is inhumanely hot outside.

I'm burning.
I'm melting.
Wah.



I digress...



Today, on this very HOT Arizona day, I experienced the mother of all free sample detestable experiences.



This is worse than the baby dropping his free chocolate ice-cream blob through the leg holes in the cart right onto mommy's expensive shoes.



Worse than the free salsa sample my son generously brought to me in the grocery store while forgetting to mention that it came from the side of the display table with the cutout cardboard flames.



Today on this VERY VERY HOT Arizona day (Read: I was already cranky and I knew it.) it was business as usual: My kids had just returned from a field trip and I was signing them out to come home. I was looking for my kids amongst hundreds of kids and 15-20 camp counselors in purple camp shirts when I heard a familiar voice.



Adriana's voice.

Adriana's very very loud excited voice.



She was coming towards me out of the crowd shouting something and holding something high above her head in plain sight - a souvenier from her trip.



"Mom!! Mom!! I got these for you, and they were free, FREE!"



At this point lots of fellow campers and their parents were also interested in looking on to see what she was so excited about.



No... No... no-no-no-no it couldn't be.



Yes, yes it was.



"Tam-poons Mom, look! And they were free so I got them for you! Cool, huh?"



















Um, thank you?

Wicked Good!

No - Wicked Awesome!

I mean Wicked was awesome!

We have been in love with the music for years. We sing it at breakfast. We sing it in the car. We sing it in the shower. (Great acoustics in the shower!)

We tried to catch it 3 years ago when it first came to Arizona, but there was some business about our moving to California that interfered. Whatever. Details.

Well, when we heard Wicked was coming back to town, our family reserved tickets almost a year in advance - oh, just in case.

Thank Goodness. And, I'm glad we arrived early because parking was No Good Deed. Some people probably don't mind hiking a couple of miles to the auditorium in 4" heels, but I'm Not That Girl. I would have done it for this Popular show, but I'm glad I didn't have to. One listen to The Wizard And I was Defying Gravity and Dancing Through Life - For Good. And unlike three years ago when we missed the show entirely, tonight No One Mourns The Wicked! I must say it was One Fine Day!

Okay, I Admit It.

I am a loner at heart.

A happy loner.

At least for short periods of time.

.

Several people felt better because I was sad to leave them at the airport last week:

I dropped Joey off Monday for his two weeks in Puerto Rico.

Adriana - Tuesday for 10 days in Wichita.

Paul & Christiana - Thursday for 4 days in Wisconsin.

Lela (my bestie who was staying with us) - Thursday also - and she's not even coming back... well, not to our home anyway.

.

Sure, I was sad to see them go.

For about twenty minutes.

(You see, I am not totally heartless.)

Then it dawned on me:

Nobody was messing up the house right now.

I could eat cereal for dinner, and sleep right smack in the middle of the bed.

I could crank down the AC and hog the blanket and stack my pillows 4 high.

I did not have to lock the bathroom door, and I was never stranded without toilet paper.

All of the laundry was done by the time I went to bed.

All of the laundry was still done when I woke up.

Also, when I woke up, the other half of my bean burrito was still in the fridge.

Eureka!

I had four days of complete domestic deconstruction and no witnesses.

Well, Isaac didn't notice.

Sure, I love my family.

And I even missed them...

Eventually.

But, I did receive phone calls from 3 different states and 1 island every single day.

I also received several unexpected drop by visits from my mother-in-law.

You know how much I love that.

(Remember?)

And now, now, I am so glad most of my family is back, and I can hardly wait for my last two to get home.

(That means you must give them back Mom & Gramita)

(I mean it. No funny business about finders keeepers.)

But all of this after those first four days.

.

Those four days alone - with nothing to do - were dang near paradise for a girl who hasn't been left alone in her own home for 13 years.

Seriously, just say that out loud.

.

I am not saying that I prefer the loner plan long term,

but as for enjoying it short term:

Guilty.