the one about working out ...

You were wondering when this would come up, weren't you? I've toyed with writing this post at least a dozen times over the past few years. I always talk myself out of it. This time, however, I've decided we're going to get into it. And a lot of you (ladies) are going to agree with me. Here we go...

Exercise. Middle fingers UP.
I can't stress enough how much I don't enjoy exercise. I just don't like it. I don't like lacing up my ugly sneakers (they're really not that bad looking, I just feel heinous in sneakers). I don't like setting aside time that could be spent doing other things (most likely cleaning which has already been done to satisfaction). I don't like sweating or lying on the floor doing ab workouts while my asthma creeps up making me feel disgustingly out of shape. I don't like staring at the wall, pounding feet on a treadmill. I don't wear cutesy workout gear or get all jazzed and smile like the dopey lady in the video. And I do NOT go to the gym. I throw on various combination outfits of black and gray, I stand in front of the television in my bedroom, turn the ceiling fan on high, do what 'the lady' says for thirty minutes, kick my stupid sneakers off and immediately shower. And THEN I feel fantastic.

Yes. Only thirty minutes. Get over it. I just can't commit to anything longer than that and have the routine stick. I've tried it all. Believe me. I've been steadily exercising since I was in my late teens. I have to. I'm 5'1" and built like my Great Aunt Rosie. (No offense, Rosie, you were a lovely woman and a helluva good cook). I will confess that after I had the miscarriage (I had exercised during the first trimester) I didn't do a thing during my second pregnancy. Try to tell me that's not healthy. I'll knock your teeth out. After having Scarlett it took me almost four months before I could do much of anything (due to the C-section recovery). When I started back up I started slow. I rotate twenty different workout routines. Interval training mostly. Aerobics/cardio, weights, toning and stretching. They're only a half hour, true, but they get the job done. Sure, I'm not shedding pounds but I'm not gaining them either. I remain seven pounds less than I was before my pregnancy.

Just yesterday I noticed how tired I've been feeling. I thought about it for a minute and realized that I had slacked a bit on the exercising over the past two weeks. I had just been a good mix of busy and lazy. But man, could I tell the difference. It is amazing how my energy plummets when I'm not faithful. I'd much rather just do the damned thing than feel sluggish. So I continue to fight the lifetime battle.

Most of you are probably surprised to hear that I do any physical activity at all based on my overall appearance. (That sentence is going to piss off my husband - sorry, babe). It's not much of a secret that I have image issues. I'm the one that will bitch you out for tagging me in a facebook photo if I haven't given the thumbs up. I'm incredibly sensitive when it comes to horrible photos. I am constantly cropping out my arms, my forehead and my torso and forever moaning about my double chin. Hey, what can you do? I am willing to bet that 82% of you readers are almost as obsessed as I am. (I suck at math so we're not actually going to calculate that).

I don't know that I'll ever be satisfied with my appearance. I do know that I'll always have to workout in order to keep the rest of Auntie Rosie at bay. Overall, I'm incredibly thankful to be healthy - that's really all that should matter. And all the bitching and moaning about the lunging and squatting just comes with the territory. It's just always going to be that way. I'm never going to hop out of bed, hear the birdies chirping in the sun's warm rays and say, "I'm gonna go for a jog!"
*It is worth noting that if I should ever do that, it's a pretty good sign that I'm having a stroke so react appropriately.

don't judge me by my stove top...

It is no secret that I love a clean house. A few papers out of place and a stray coupon on the counter spells "chaos" to me. Things must be put away where they belong and when a junk drawer gets out of hand it's time to reassess the situation. It's just the way I am. I like things to be neat, organized and visibly clean. People ask me, "Do you really think people are judging you when they come over?" No, I don't. That's not my issue. Just as I don't judge other people when I visit their cluttered home. That's their space and they can do with it what they like. I keep a clean home for my own peace of mind. I feel relaxed when I see that every space is clutter-free and the counters are shining. Speaking of shiny counters I am newly obsessed with Meyer's Clean Day countertop spray - Basil scented.

It is awesommmmmmme. I spray it every day in the kitchen and dining room. (I have the lemon verbana for the bathroom and living room). After using this spray I immediately feel better about my day. It creates the illusion of clean even if things aren't 100%. Which they normally are. Or at least a solid 98%.

When I was pregnant people loved to taunt me, pointing out that once I had the baby my house would never be clean again. Really? I found no challenge in cleaning my house the same way I always had. I choose a few small areas to clean each day and I stay two steps ahead of a mess. I don't understand how clutter just happens. Put your things away. Isn't it that simple? Even when we play in Scarlett's room, and believe me she's like a tornado, we clean up after every session. The next time we walk through that door it's presentable and ready for destruction once again. Which is clearly the fun part for any kid.

However, I've realized that there is a task that I wicked slack on... cleaning the damned stove top. Next to scrubbing the shower and tub I think it's the biggest pain in the ass. That grease build up is unacceptable. I could scream when I see it in the creases trying to hide from my thrice daily pass with the dish rag. Before I know it, I'm spending forty minutes scouring the entire surface. And that hood!! That stainless steel hood is my nemesis. I might as well paint angry eyebrows on it. Stupid jerk hood.

Sure, from afar it looks decent. Shiny even. It's a farce though. Up close you'll see the greasy little circular patterns that I half-heartedly wiped earlier with a soapy cloth. I clearly didn't bother to give it the seventeen wipes that it needs. I didn't remove the burners and soak them. I haven't even cleaned out the dried spinach and egg that jumped the pan last week. Gross? Yep. You bet. But I care just enough about it to write this post. And later, when I re-fire that burner I'll say a short hello to the egg and spinach duo without eliminating them once again. See, I'm not entirely obsessed! But that's just the 2%.

No, chef.

Once in a while I wake up just knowing what I'd like to make for lunch. Luckily, it's normally something that is Scarlett-friendly as well. So, today I felt like having an egg-white omelet with peppers and onions in a tortilla with cheddar cheese and cherry tomatoes on the side. Perfect! All morning I felt like I had this big surprise coming for Scarlett (she'd never tried peppers or tomatoes) and I couldn't wait for lunch. Little did I know, Miss Priss had her own surprise in the works...

Scarlett Letter #8

Ten and a half months old. Holy mackerel. Scarlett is growing like the weeds in our backyard! Only she's prettier and she hasn't attracted any bees thus far.

the best nightmare EVAHHHH & other junk

Yes, it's been a month since I've written a post... tsk tsk. Get over it, people, I have things to do. Just kidding -- while I do have things to do I don't expect you to have to get over it. Nor do I expect that you've even noticed that my blog has been a cricket-fest for a month. Onward...