Exercise, Anyone?

Here are some exercise videos to lighten your quest for fitness:

P90X – Studio C

Don’t Be That Awkward Runner – Don’t be that guy

Worst Trainer Ever – Studio C

Now you can go and get your work out on–just not like these people!!!! 🙂

I Love to Laugh!

My kiddos are enamored as of late with a fun group of sketch comedy called Studio C. The actors recently began their third season on BYU Television…and I thought I would post a few sketches that are my favorites (or some family favorites). It’s a little like SNL–but more family friendly–and without the weekly guests. Enjoy!

(And, remember that laughter is healing, healthy, and promotes happiness!!!!) Hugs!!!

Spelling Bee–getting butterflies with your own grade-school flashbacks yet?

Poker Face–not Lady Gaga’s version

Last Will & Testament–one of my personal favs

Lobster Bisque–in case you’re hungry

What Kiddos Say…

This past weekend, my daughter had our beads out to make some bracelet gifts for two of her sweet friends’ birthdays. As she began mixing and matching beads, trying this pattern with that color, or trading a Swarovski bicone with a pearl, I began to play, too. I found a pattern of pearl beads in various sizes and colors of pale green, coral, and cream, adding them one at a time to a sturdy strand of wire. I crimped the clasp on, and eventually placed it on the counter in my bathroom, where one of my twins found it Sunday evening.

With surprise, he queried, “Are these real?”

“No. They are just acrylic beads covered to look like pearls.”

“Well, if they were real, you would be rich!”

I thought for a moment, as I have been pondering the true value of worldly wealth and possessions as of late, and I responded quickly (and a little cheesily, I must admit…but the sentiment was sincere), “I am already rich. I have you.”

He pondered for a moment, and then spoke.

“I guess you’re right, since you can sell children for about $20,000.00 each.”

Not exactly the message I was trying to send….

🙂

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Waiting for 10 o’clock

I have this rule. We call it the “10 o’clock rule” around our house.

Clock 10:00

photo credit

And, I am watching the clock, even as I type, for the numbers to fly onward toward this blessed time.

You see, we don’t have sugar–like hard-core, solid, sugar–until after 10 a.m.

Don’t ask me when the rule began.  I have no idea.  Somehow, I do recall that I read something to the effect of “if you eat chocolate when you crave it between 10 am-4 pm, you will be healthier.”  The 10 o’clock rule was then born for chocolate, and eventually defined to cover Skittles, Starbursts, soda, ice cream, and other varied sugary items.

Doughnuts, cinnamon rolls, banana bread, and other such items are not included in the 10 o’clock rule.

And, I do have some banana bread on the counter.  I could get up, slice some, heat it in the microwave for a few seconds, slather it with butter and enjoy.

But the Skittles in my backpack that sit atop my computer desk area are so much closer…(29 more minutes)…and my body is probably still full from the delicious bowl of oatmeal with fresh blueberries and cream I had for breakfast.

(Too bad breakfast was several hours ago….)

Twenty-eight minutes.  Maybe I’ll work on my love songs playlist for our anniversary.  I’ve been enjoying that.

And I could start editing the novel I wrote last November.  I’ve got hours of work on that project.  But, of course, I would need some Skittles to even open the document.

And, it’s still twenty-seven minutes until 10 o’clock.

Maybe I should change time zones.

🙂

A Little Friday Fiction…

I was talking with one of my cute sisters yesterday and said something that spawned a little bit of a story…so, here goes…!

“I didn’t mean to fall in love with Jude Law,” I heard myself say to a friend the other day–one of those friends that I can go years without speaking to, suddenly call her one day and giggle again like we did across the plastic umbrella-covered table at the local Tastee Freeze while spying on guys we liked as teenagers.

Carmen burst out laughing.  I think she spit a little into the phone, maybe?  “What?’ I heard her yell into my ear.

“Well, it just kinda happened.”  She laughed a little into the speaker which traveled across cell signals through several states–too many to mention and way more than I would like to admit–and filled my soul.  I missed her laugh, the times we shared.  This phone call was long overdue…like the baby that was hanging out in my belly.  Seriously overdue.  Like eight days.  Having something grow inside you can be wonderful and fabulous and amazing and miraculous…but sometimes–and more often than not–I find it uncomfortable, inconvenient–not to mention heavy.  But I didn’t have this child because I was looking for convenience.  I’m not delusional.  Okay, not yet.  At least I think I’m not.  But those are all other stories.  Back to Carmen.

“What just kinda happened?”  I don’t know what she was really thinking happened…not like I have any connection to Jude Law or anything…at least not any more connection to him than anyone else in this small town in the middle of America.  Okay, maybe a little connection.  My grandfather did immigrate here from England.  There–I have a connection to Jude Law.  England is our connection.

I continued, “Well, you know Cliff was on a business trip last weekend?”

“Mmmmhmmm.”

“And, the girls and I were looking for something to do.”  By girls I should define…they are my girls…but they are both minors, and therefore, as a seemingly responsible, non-delusional mother, I wouldn’t put them in any type of compromising situation, right?  “So, we picked up a chick flick from the library…some Christmas-type movie.  What was it called again?  Oh, yeah.  The Holiday.  And Jude Law was kissing Cameron Diaz and all of the sudden I thought, ‘that’s the way Cliff kisses me,’ and then I’m looking at him with her and I’m practically drooling over Jude’s solid jaw,”–like Cliff’s–“and his longing eyes”–also like Cliff’s–“and I fell in love.”

More laughter on the other end of the line.

“To make it all worse, he was a widower–with two little girls that were cute”–like mine–“and British“–not like mine.  “I was like sobbing by the end…and hopelessly in love.”

“You know you’re hormonal, right?” Carmen’s voice of reason came through the magical world of cell service.  This time we both laughed together.

“I even looked him up on IMDb,” I found myself confessing.  “He wasn’t nearly this attractive in the Sherlock Holmes movies, was he?”

“I don’t know,” Carmen was almost gasping for air through her laughter.  “But you are funny.  And I know what I’m sending you for Christmas.”

“No, don’t,” I quickly responded.  “I don’t want Cliff to find out.”

“Find out what?”

And my glorious cell phone droped the call.  “Find out I’m in love with Jude Law,” I say into the empty space as I start to replay the conversation in my head.

Maybe I am a bit delusional after all.

🙂