It Was The Best Of Times

It was the worst of times. Not classic books. Not classic rock. I’m talking about these twenty minutes  on the foam roller. OMG OUCH! Yep, I’m paying today for snowboarding without stretching on Saturday and also not following up that riding day with hot tub time (machine). No one to blame but myself, and I’m pointing that finger pretty hard this morning. This morning where I have the hips of,gasp, a 40 year old! Or maybe it’s just that I have beast quads and I just need to get the scar tissue broken up in them. Either way, I probably need help. Like a yoga chair. It’s high on the list.

Today officially starts this new job era for me. I’m partially looking forward to it, partially dreading it, and totally looking forward to my first paycheck. The fun never ends when you just aren’t sure when that’ll happen. Granted, I know that it will for certain by the end of the month, but will they break me off a little sumthin sumthin before that? You just never know here in ye olde Corporate America. Makes me wish, every now and again, that I could just skip it all and go back to bartending. Ah, that fun. Definitely where I’m at my best when I can smartmouth you and you’re gonna take it because you want your drink. No, wait, you want the drink that I made for you because, well, I’m a kickass bartender. But, reality struck (Better find out before your time’s out, what the f!%$!!) and real jobs happened and now I have too much stuff to go back. First world problems.

I think I’ll start openly talking about girl issues here. Why? Well, because it’s my blog and I don’t think that any of my 4 readers are male. You’ll have to make a comment down below if you are indeed male and then perhaps I will scale back the vagina monologues. But until then, I was so sad last week because I had started working out and I still felt as though I was the size of a bounce house. Fortunately, I came to the realization that I was just bloated from that wonder of nature that we ladies experience but I can’t wait to stop experiencing either by menopause (too long to wait) or surgical intervention (when I think I could find 3 weeks where I could sit still to recover). Man, you’d think my life is a lot rougher than it is. (I know I have it good. A lot better than some others. I’m not complaining. Much.)

At almost two weeks into the new year – where it alternates between feeling like January should be over already and it should be somewhere around the second day of the month – I’ve actually surprised myself by getting in here and writing down something, even if it’s only a few sentences, every day so far. 21 days creates a habit right? Or is that 30? And is it same time, same place? Ah well, I’ll just stick with being happy that we’re two weeks in and I’m still writing. My money is in the jar for the 52 week challenge. I’m working out. I’m stretching. I jumped (off of a very small jump) on my snowboard. 2014 is going well. The only thing where I’m falling behind is a latecomer to the ‘things I want to do’ party. I want to get a short story down once a week. By the end of the year, I’ll have an anthology of sorts. Dirty stories. Because they’re the easiest to write. But people are still out there reading Penthouse forum, so I bet they’ll read this.

Well, the time to get moving is upon us. Or at least, it’s upon me. Let’s get out there and get it in week three of the year. This week looks like two Zumba classes, a FabPole class, more working out, more stretching, and snowboarding on the weekend. How’s it looking for you?

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