stinky invalid at 32

Tomorrow is my birthday. Although I still feel like I'm 18, the fine lines swirling around my eye sockets won't deny my true age. We had some friends over Friday night.....our usual Catan/poker crowd. Steve, the little brat, called everyone earlier in the week to inform them it was a surprise birthday gig for me. So someone made a cake and they brought gifts and the whole deal. I hate surprises and I hate being the center of attention, (remember how I eloped?) but I survived. We have such a fabulous group of friends....I'm so thankful. And someone even made a heartfelt speech about how our little group really is like family. Very nice.

So yesterday was the last day to try the YMCA for free and we managed to get last minute court time to play our "you guys are like family" friend in my favorite game ever. Racquetball!!! I used to play in college every free chance I got.......between classes.......after lunch.......middle of the night..... Good times. Steve and his friend Brian and I used to spend hours (literally, hours!) playing cutthroat at Eastern Michigan University. Those were the fittest days of my life. Anyway, I don't think I've picked up a racquet since getting pregnant (8 years) until yesterday. As out of shape as I am, my racquet skills were intact for the most part and I was actually giddy with excitement to be wailing on that ball again. We played for more than an hour and by the end I was fire engine red and absolutely spent, but definitely on a post exercise/just fell in love again high. I L.O.V.E. racquetball!!!!! 

Fast forward to today. I. am. so. sore. My butt muscles are screaming out in such pain that it's keeping Steve awake at night. My right arm and shoulder are practical immobile due to yesterday's excess of activity, and to be entirely honest, I am having a hard time wiping my own booty. An hour of racquetball.........so worth a day or two of stank.

The Thing about Hip Hop Abs

The thing about hip hop abs is that they are really sexy.

The thing about hip hop abs is that I really want them.

The thing about hip hop abs is that if you want them badly enough, you may break down and buy something like this from an infomercial.



The thing about Hip Hop Abs (the workout) is that Shaun T's voice can get just a tidge annoying.

The thing about hip hop abs is that you prolly won't get them just by laughing at your 2 year old attempting the club worthy moves while the Pussycat Dolls croon "don't you wish your girlfriend was hot like me?"

The thing about hip hop abs is that you prolly won't get them if you hide the danish behind the tupperware and consume the entire thing by yourself.




The thing about hip hop abs is that you prolly won't get them if you've survived 4 pregnancies and had your stomach skin stretched like silly putty to accommodate the 11 pound toddler you birthed.

The thing about hip hop abs is that if I had them, I would be seriously tempted to wear crop tops or pull the bottom of my shirt thru the neckhole (oh, 80s fashion!) at the smallest hint of a warm day. I would also most likely go green by rollerblading to the Piggly Wiggly for all my grocery needs. In a bikini.



Now what kind of message would THAT send to my impressionable girlies!?
Aaw! Forget it. Pass me the peanut butter!

The thing about Thursdays/Knee Highs

The thing about Thursdays is that I'm going to attempt to post my random thoughts about fill in the blank every week. On Thursday. Hence the title. The thing about Thursdays.

But this Thursday, the thing isn't really about Thursdays. That was more of an explanation, or preface, if you will. This Thursday's thing is about knee highs.



The thing about knee highs is that wearing them during competitive events can be quite intimidating for your opponents. I have found that people subconsciously associate long socks with superior batting/throwing/kicking/grammar/sliding/running/hitting/math skills.

The thing about knee highs is that if you're pressed for time, you can skip shaving your entire leg and just do the knee part.

The thing about knee highs is that if you're having a really rough game, they are still there, giving your calves a lil hug and telling you everything will be OK.

Grandma's Marathon Weekend

What is a weekend without a lil' Settlers?

Mimi and Gwen

Sunday lunch...3 families...12 kids...lots of delicious food...several indecent exposures...34 screams in response to said exposures...one bloody nose.

Jason the marathon runner and Steve with his new grill.

Thank you economic stimulus check yet to be received.

Whipper Snapper Racers

Clark leading the girls in some pre-race stretches.

Josie and Ella's first ribbons ever:)

Racing cut into Gwen's naptime.....she couldn't make it home.

Waiting at the 25 mile marker after one of many weekend downpours.

Jason and Greg finished the marathon in 4:08. And it turns out I can no longer blame my marathon misty eyes on pregnancy hormones. I am just absolutely amazed by people's determination. To the point of tears. And so, in honor of the determination of the runners of marathons......and yes, even half marathons, I will show my own determination by ceasing to gorge myself on brownies and homemade ice cream as I have all weekend. As soon as I'm finished with that last little bit down in the freezer....Mmmmmm:)

Keys to a Successful Softball Season in the Northland

After the last couple years of playing co-rec softball on my church's team, I feel like I've finally figured out a few keys to a successful season. Just thought I'd share my insights.

1. Dress in MULTIPLE layers. These layers should include (but are not limited to) a winter hat, (with a hole cut in the back for your ponytail) a winter coat, a rain jacket, mosquito netting, a tank top, and some sort of Depends-like undergarment in case the field in Parkland has yet to see the value in obtaining a biffy and you still haven't mastered the invaluable "squat and pee." Or you may have mastered the "squat and pee" but because you're just a tidge self conscious, you refuse to do it within 30 feet of your pastor.

2. Become friends with a child leash. I personally can't contain myself when I see someone "walking their child", but I can imagine it would come in wonderfully handy when your team is on the field and your 2 year old has decided she no longer wants to play "Our parents died in the war and we have to take care of ourselves" with the older kids and would rather wander behind the batter to show mommy the not so empty beer can she found under the bleachers.

3. Food. Food. And more Food. Enough food for everyone on your team and all their kids and the kids of the opposing team. And a few random neighborhood kids. Food gives the younger kids a reason to stick close to the field instead of wandering into the woods or a busy parking lot. It also is their dinner time and from my experience, kids don't handle skipping a meal as graciously as ad......err.....Forget that. If you don't bring an abundance of food, the wandering parentless (I was going to use "unsupervised," but that would mean MY children) child who has never seen fresh fruit before will eat the entire 4 pounds of grapes before your kids can settle themselves on a picnic blanket.

4. Lastly, one must understand that to have a truly successful softball season in the Northland, it may be necessary to pick up a 2nd job to pay for the gas to get to the games. Some fields are approximately 309 miles from home, making it a rather expensive form of "entertainment."