Yayayayayay!! Our Dhuland garden is freshly planted. I decided to employ a different strategy this year for the following reasons:
1.) It gets SO freakin' hot mid summer that without a full irrigation system, I cannot keep the soil cool and moist enough for optimal results.
2.) Contrary to popular belief, I really REALLY don't like spending time pulling weeds and 'tending' the garden. I prefer to lay by the pool or the ocean and sneak out to the garden before it gets too hot, or late in the afternoon to pluck the fruits of my (non)labor.
3.) WEEDS. WEEDS. WEEDS.
We spent a lot of time a couple of years ago building and filling our raised planters, thinking this would give me the low maintenance, soil/weed control I was hoping for. But after two years of only mediocre results, I asked Big Dave to disassemble them (they were all about rotten anyway) and spread out the soil so I could have a nice level playing surface on which to lay out my new and improved container garden.
BEFORE: (Trashed, neglected over winter, dead ass raised beds.)
IN PROGRESS: (A fresh new playing field.)
READY TO ROLL! (Tomatoes, peppers, potatoes, cantelopes, cucumbers, squash and zucchinis all tucked nicely into buckets and a few very contained hills.)
It looks mighty naked at the moment, but I know we'll be wall to wall with lush green yumminess in a few weeks. And hopefully this strategy will help with weed prevention, as I can just hit the intruders with some Roundup and not worry about damaging my veggie friends. Yay!
I can't believe it. We just finished our fifth week of the Insanity workout plan with our beloved Shaun T... the sexiest, sweetest, big, bald, fitness guru EVER.
We've sweated, grunted, and cried for mercy, through burpees, suicides, Heismans, switch jumps, power jumps, squats, lunges and more varieties of push ups and planks than any three people could ever dream of. And we have survived.
Phew!
So where are we? Are we seeing results? Hmmm... YESSSS!!!
Here's the stats:
David has lost 2 inches around his waist. (A total of 4 inches throughout his belly and chest!)
(Left: Day 1) (Right: Today)
(Helloooo farmer's tan!)
As for me, I'm down two inches in my waist too! (a total of 4.5 inches overall) Yeek!!!
And we're still going strong! We absolutely dread it. HATE it. Would rather be sitting on the porch with some cold beer and boiled peanuts, but six days a week, Mendy the Hottie Neighbor (who, by the way, has lost a handful of inches of her own, but I can't remember how many), Big Dave and I drag our asses to our now sweat stained spots in my living room and gut it out.
We've got another three weeks and we'll be able to say we've done it! And then what? Hmmmm... good question. But I know I want to keep up with some kind of regimented fitness plan because I really enjoy having this little bit of torture and whole lot of success in common with my hubby. I hate hunting, he hates scrapbooking, but now we finally have something we hate together. Ha!
And when I hug him... which is often, I can wrap my arms around him more than I've been able to do in a long time. And that's pretty cool.
Today while out for a 5 mile scamper through the ol' hood, (and before my Ipod petered out with two miles to go) I found myself running in perfect rhythm to Maneater, an old eighties tune by Hall & Oates.
In fact, I found myself running FAST (remember fast is relative) to it. When I checked my Garmin, I was kickin' up a 10:20 pace for that mile as my right foot struck the pavement with each beat of the song. It was perfect. Perhaps I should consider running to that one song, over and over and over and over again. Boy, I'd zip through that half marathon in no time! (And lose my mind in the process.)
Oh you probably remember the tune... a super poppy beat with the lyrics, "Oh here she comes, watch out boy she'll chew you up. Oh here she comes, she's a maneater." Hmmm. Sounds kinda like the chick in those lyrics might be a slutty, gold digging, manipulator doesn't it?
Well that brings me to my tale. It's a tale of nudity, scandal and woe... and that hot button of a word, 'bullying.' Now, let me be the first to tell you that I had a couple of run ins with bullies in my life, but never anything major... although the time in high school when that scrawny dude's skanky girlfriend sent word through the hallways that she was gonna kick my skinny ass because she thought I was lusting for her man (uh, gross) I sure thought it was major.
And I've been a bully myself to one particularly friendly little ginger back in my church youth group, but thanks to Facebook, time, and the gradual replacement of teenage hormones with adult ones, she has forgiven me, and we are friends.
But this tale (the one with the nudity, scandal and woe) is my favorite, and even though I still have a heart palpitation or two when I hear Maneater, I don't regret that it happened because, as with every other experience, it's made me into the absolutely lovely individual I've become.
So without further ado, I will now share my Maneater tale...
I was in fifth grade. An awkward year, as many of you can attest. Some of the little girls at the private school I attended had already begun to blossom, with their little training bras and tales of 'starting'. Not me. I was stick straight, and pretty much looked like a dude. (Mullet, braces, highwater pants... you get the picture.) That was okay for me, because I really was kind of a tomboy. I'd build forts in the woods around my house, ride my dirt bike, and even dressed up as the baseball player Lou Gehrig for a school project (remember when we got to dress up like the folks in our reports? Do kids still get to do that?)
So when my mom told me that my good ol' buddy ol' pal Scott's, big sister Shawna was going to babysit us while the moms went out for a girl's night, I was excited about the prospect of playing Star Wars (he had real light sabers!) checking out his matchbox car collection, and shooting some pool in his game room. AWESOME. At some point during the night his sister, who seemed SO much older and meaner, but was really probably only 14 or 15, got us into a game of hide and seek. It was so much FUN!
Until the part where Scott, who was wearing elastic waist, blue plaid pajama bottoms hid under the pool table. And I found him.
And he wouldn't come out.
So I grabbed his leg.
But only grabbed a handful of elastic waist, blue plaid pajama bottoms.
So basically... I pulled his pants down.
And I saw his butt.
And he saw me see his butt.
OH MY GOD.
Was I mortified? OH HECK YES! I was soooooOOOoooo embarrassed. But he played it off, and we kept on playing, no big deal.
So I figured that he would just forget about the unfortunate incident right? Nope! At school, the following Monday, I learned, much to my utter and total dismay, that my good ol' buddy ol' pal, had told his best friend Jayce that I pulled his pants down ON PURPOSE!
Not good.
And you've gotta understand that back in the day when I was a wee little lassy on the playground, I was an official 'Kissing Girl' and (the rumor was) if a boy got caught by us, he very well may have been forced to drop his drawers or get a swift kick in the nuts with a Penny Loafer. (We were 6 year old disgusting perverts, what can I say?) So I knew a thing or two about the subject of pants-removal, and I was absolutely positive that I had NOT forced Scott to drop trow.
Yet here I was, the accused. Oh it made me sick. Like literally... I thought I was gonna barf. They wouldn't shut up about it either, which by the way, is where the Maneater song comes in. Everyday after school for what seemed an eternity, they would follow me to the bus singing that damned song. "Oh here she comes... watch out boy she'll chew you up..."
I'd get on the bus and cry my eyeballs out. It sucked.
I'd love to tell you that I eventually kicked them both in the balls and threw used cat litter in their eyes, but I didn't. In fact, I'm not sure how the whole thing got resolved, but I vaguely remember telling my bus driver, Mr. White, about it, and maybe he got involved. It's been so long ago, and apparently I've only held onto the nudity, scandal and woe parts rather than remembering who helped me get rid of these two numbskulls. Maybe they just got bored? I dunno. But I was never ever ever their friend again.
And that, my friends, is my tale. Like I said, it's one of my favorites. Right up there with the time my boyfriend and I got caught by the police in a less than discreet situation at Memorial Stadium... or the time I accidentally backed into the electric fence at the horse barn and thought a mustang had snuck up and bit me on the ass.
They've all made me into who I am today. Happy.
And thankfully for me, Big Dave doesn't wear elastic waist, blue plaid pajama bottoms. ;)
Can you believe it's been FIVE years since I closed Savannah Scrapbooking???
That's just crazy!
Five years ago I closed up my baby and walked away from the most awesome job in the world.
I had a super fun five year run with my little biz, and met people from all over the country.
And through (or despite) the clogged toilets, backordered merchandise, hours and HOURS of inventory, economic woes, and the occasional crabby/crazy/stinky/psycho situations, I got to hang out with the coolest, most creative women a person could ever hope to meet.
And I'm lucky to still call most of them friends. So here's to you my beautiful scrappy friends... I still hold memories of you in my heart.
So let's raise a glass to the sisterhood... to the sharing of ultrasound, wedding, birthday and graduation photos... to indepth discussions about vaginas, vibrators, marriage and money... to laughing until we cried, peed in our pants, or spewed soda through nostrils... to good-natured gossip, rumors of underpantslessness, and torrid tales of sex after 40. We welcomed each other into our families' stories, gave advice, and lent comforting ears/shoulders/cocktails.
You all rock. I'd do it again in a heartbeat (now that I've had five years to miss it.)
Anybody got $100,000? I need to win the lottery! :)
1 - Kitten sleeping on my laptop while I TRY to type.
9 - Days of Spring Break that are now long gone, and I desperately want back.
7 - Weeks until SUMMER BREAK. CANNOT GET HERE SOON ENOUGH!
44 - Minutes it took me to run 4 miles this morning. I've taken two weeks off to concentrate on the Insanity workouts, and was SUPER happy to scamper through them without pain or trauma.
22 - Years, this month, since I first saw the boy of my dreams at a pig pickin'. Our first date was this month. He still rocks my world.
3 - Inches of belly fat GONE from my tummy since starting the workouts. {Giggle}
90,000,000 - Number of leaves I blew, raked, scooped, mowed and mulched today in my yard. Be gone, damned leaves, be gone!
3 - Books I want to start reading. NOW. (Born to Run, What I Talk About When I Talk About Running, and the first Sookie Stackhouse book.)
30 - Days since I stopped eating wheat. Yep. 30 days, gluten-free. I'm pretty sure that it's played a significant part in the loss of my belly/back fat. And it used to seem so mysterious and complicated to me, but it's totally not. AT ALL. No wheat. No problem.
9 - The typical number of hours I sleep every night. Down at 10, up at 7. In fact... I think I'm heading that way riiiiight now.
127 - Average daily views on my bloggy. Thank each and every one of you! Goodnight! ;)
