Okay, sorry, everyone.  My computer has been a bit under the weather.  I'm back.  However, I'm not feeling particularly focused this evening, so who really knows where this is going to go.  I just miss writing.  I probably should've hand-written an entry or two in the meantime, but that would have required a little more organizational skill than I actually possess.
    So... I quit smoking a few months ago and I have put on a few pounds.  I kind of allowed for that.  But now the daily cravings are starting to dry up, so I think it's safe to move on to Phase 2:  Less Candy, More Yoga/Pilates.  However, I am finding it a bit difficult to find my happy place when Baby Duck is trying to join in (and falling down every time she has to imitate a lunging pose) and Ladybug is climbing between my legs or coloring on the tile floor.  So I tried doing it while Ladybug naps-- only half the distraction!  But then I realized a new problem:  I can't stand having to undress, put on work out gear, get stinky (because I do have to work hard enough to sweat to make it worth the time) and shower in the middle of my afternoon.  I don't understand how people work out on their lunch break and then go back to the office.  If I sweat, I must shower-- and it doesn't count if the hair doesn't get washed, people.  Have you ever hugged a little kid after they've been running around outside and you smell the top of their head?  Yeah.  That's what I thought.  Remember:  Your head sweats, too.  And then it gets smelly.  Wash it.  But if the hair gets washed, then it must be dried.  For me, to make my hair look right after the shower takes at least an hour.  That means that even if I just splatter paint my face as an excuse for a makeup job and make sure to wear slip-on shoes, I need an hour and a half post work-out to not be gross.  And I'm really low-maintenance!  How do normal people do this?  I don't get it!  But, then again, normal people don't have quite the beast to tame atop their head that I do.  Crowning glory, my arse!  
    E suggested that he could wake me up in the morning so I could go do it.  I told him he just called me fat by offering to rouse me to work out and he was better off not saying anything like that ever again even though he had no earthly idea how I got to that conclusion.  He just looked at me like I was crazy.  Great.  Now I'm fat and crazy.  Well, the crazy part actually isn't exactly newsworthy...
    So that leaves after the kids go to bed, which is when I watch TV that has crude humor and mild language... or write all these fantastic gems for all you folks to chuckle at.  And really, what's a few pounds if it means I can continue to entertain?

CL