Blink and rub your eyes

Today I hauled my lazy butt out of bed at 6:15. I don't have to go to work today, or I would have been up at least a half hour earlier. I have Wednesdays off, and on occasion I've "slept in" until 9, or even (gasp!) an hour later. It's nice when your kids can turn on the tv AND make their own breakfast. Really. Unless they start fighting. Then I have to put the smack down.

Anyway, I weighed myself in the last 24 hours, and the number was up by 3. Ouch. UP from one of my highest levels, which I have hung around at for far too long already. Of course, I firmly blame these people, who bought me far too many glasses of wine in Cleveland:

Just kidding - Danielle, Sarah, & John.... you guys are the best!!! Notice I am not posting the photos of myself getting drunk, drunker, and oh, my-god-did-I-really-do-that drunkest. It certainly couldn't be the GIANT piece of cheesecake I ate in my hotel bar in Cleveland that pushed me over the edge of my plateau.

So I got up bright and early this morning, and put my shirt and shorts and sneakers on, and stole the Princess' iPod. She gets a little annoyed when I swipe it while she's sleeping, and then we have to have the "I Bought You This, And Filled It With Music, Didn't I" chat.

I have a hilly neighborhood and I walked for about an hour, listening to Phil and Tim and other things like that. Ben Folds actually stopped by for a visit or two as well. The iPod was actually driving me crazy because I bought this case/lanyard so that I wouldn't have to hold it, and it has a cord that goes around your neck... and with every step it swung from side to side like that pendulum thing in the bottom of my grandfather clock. Dammit. I hate it when a good idea turns out to be useless. So instead of being able to, oh, I don't know, just walk, I had to hold my hand on my chest like I was saying the pledge of allegiance for 45 minutes straight. Arrrgh.

When I was nearing the final turn to head home I noticed something supremely discouraging. I had on a pair of khaki shorts which are pretty loose. Nevertheless, they were literally chafing my legs just above the kneecaps. No, scratch that. They were smouldering and about to burst into flames. From walking. I almost set myself on fire, walking around my neighborhood. Wouldn't I look fabulous, rolling around in the street (one hand holding the iPod still) and slapping furiously at my thighs, "ow ow ow ow" ??

Nothing to see here. Move along.