As they say: “It’s the journey, not the destination”
Source: Themetapicture
Related Post: T.G.I.F.: So, how did work go this week?
I can't sleep…
As they say: “It’s the journey, not the destination”
Source: Themetapicture
Related Post: T.G.I.F.: So, how did work go this week?
Dear Rachel & Eric:
I shared the article below from today’s paper with your Mother. She’s gloating: “I told you so.” I’m snarling: “This is utter nonsense.” Mom’s espousing “Let Freedom Reign.” Dad’s fencing is well established and flashing warning signals: “Cross the line, you’ll do the time.”
You three, huddled in your sheltered cocoon, will see the light.
Hang on to this post and drag it out when your children reach adolescence, and ask the following hypothetical (NOT) questions:
Do these stories sound familiar? Hmmmmm. Right.
Being a parent, your Parents, has been our greatest blessing.
I can’t wait to watch you shine.
Love,
Dad
P.S. Re: Having children. Absolutely no need to rush into things.
Study Says Yelling Is As Hurtful as Hitting Continue reading “Dear Kids”
This just never gets old. This clip has been watch 12,160,830 times on Youtube. I bet I’ve watch it 500 times. And, I’m STILL LAUGHING.
6:10 am. 70° F. Humidity: 100%. Thick. A mood dampener.
After an unexpected, unexplainable and unacceptable two-pound jump last week, Gadget Man replaced the seven-year old bathroom scale. I don’t need to wait three seconds of interminable flashing to see my test scores. If you aren’t getting results, replace the equipment. Pull the band-aid off and hit me.
The new scale is sweet. I step on the scale and it snaps to attention. No waiting, no flashing, no bad scores. This morning, this incredible technology signalled that I was a mere one pound higher than the challenge target, with another month to go. Now we’re talking.
Yet, what a miserable journey this has been. Rationing ice cream. Mouth salivating for pasta. A 3-cookie daily portion limit. People, this is not living. And the real question is whether this is sustainable.
This morning, I’m determined to drive this weight down. Way down below target to give me cushion. In one run.
My head is saying: 10 miles.
My body: Groaning. Continue reading “Running. With BlueBuds.”