sail

Thanks for the video tip, Taraleigh




Wanna hear a scary story?
This a.m. my dear husband and I woke to the sound  of shouting. Loud shouting. Loud, profane shouting coming from outside.
We fell back asleep.
We were woken up once more by the sound of sirens. Looked out the window and what did we see? Coppers. Six squad cars worth. Then a firetruck. Then, finally and ambulance (seems like that should  have arrived first?). A paramedic lifted an occupied stretcher, but I was too far away to see a face or determine if the face was still breathing. Within five minutes the entire law enforcement team dispersed and now all that's left is a ghastly spot of blood on the street.

I love renting.

Thoughts

First, this happened:

If you know who the Fug Girls are, you probably understand my elation. If you don't know who the Fug Girls are, I can't recommend this site enough (sorry about the name, Mom). And, BTW, here's the photo being discussed:

That's J. Biebs in the mask

Also, this song has all the makings of music I usually despise and the video is really not good, but I just can't get enough:

What is wrong with me?

And speaking of songs, Ivy is obsessed with music. Yesterday I was sitting on the couch and she grabbed my hand, led me down the hall to the bedroom, pointed at the ipod and started bouncing up and down. Her favorite tunes so far are Adele,  Beastie Boys and Justin Timberlake. Sadly she seems to have inherited my sense of rhythm, so her moves looks like the sporadic gestures of an injured drunkard. That doesn't sopt her from insisting that we listen to music all day every day. When she's tired of one song, she grabs my hand, yanks me toward the ipod and waits for a new song while I hit Shuffle again.

This photo is in no way related to this post.

But Rocko's just a rock

So far April has looked like this:

So we've been watching a lot of Elmo. And cooking ambitious recipes. And sewing. Pretty much just doing whatever it takes to ward off cabin  fever.
I've been trying to keep up a fitness routine without running through the Siberian tundra that is Colorado and without paying for a gym membership. This, like so many circumstances before it, led me to YouTube.
Bless the user who uploaded the entire Insanity workout, complete with the copy write warning. I know pirating is wrong, but these are desperate, snowy, really really cold times, ok?
Anyway, I was expecting a mild, slightly exerting twenty minutes of exercise.  What I got was a core-killing, leg-shredding, face-melting workout that rendered my body completely useless the following day. And, because I apparently hate myself, I've kept at it. And gosh dang  if I haven't seen results. Last night I told Stephen I thought I had a tumor in my stomach. (Side  note: If Stephen  had a  nickel for every time I told him I had cancerous symptoms he would be able to retire at 30.) After inspecting the suspect region Stephen said "No, that's a muscle."

Careful feeling the cat's wiry whiskers

Ivy has a favorite book. It's called Touch and Feel Pets. Each page has a photo of an animal with some sort of material attached. The bunny has a furry tail, the goldfish has scales and the parakeet feels like a pool table. Ivy mimics my reading voice, a sing-songy up and down cadence, while running her fingers over the dog's silky coat. And then she grabs my hand, finds two fingers and places them on the assorted textures.  She's sharing the experience, and it's so cute that part of me dies and the other part forgets about her tipping over Ollie's water and using a blue crayon to draw on the white couch and throwing toast at my face. For a minute anyway.

What a ham.

Oh, the Places You've Been!

Congratulations!
Today is your day!
You've been to great places!
To go and to stay!

You've tried all the local treats
French fries, tacos, and shrimp.
You've been chowing the grub
like a super food pimp.

You look up and down the menu. Look it over with care.
To the waiter you say, "Burger, medium rare."
With your head full of dreams and a large appetite
you're too hungry to even attempt  to eat right.

And you don't think twice
about all that pink
the under-cooked beef
and that cheesy weird stink.

Your tummy, it rumbles
performs intestinal tumbles

You ignore it of course
and go on your way
you'll be fine with some tums
and some time to digest, you pray

But then things start to happen
in the middle of the night.
You sit up with a start
Pale, eyes wide with fright

OH!
THE PLACES YOU'VE BEEN!

You've been to the cafe
And to the taqueria
And now you've been hit
with some bad _________

You don't look behind as you run full speed
if it were a race you be in the lead.
To the bathroom you head, to the porcelain throne
and as you throw up you think "I'm dying. I'm done."

You've been poisoned by food
it seems that fate can be rude

I'm sorry to say so
but, sadly, it's true
and e-coli really
can happen to you.

A few things

First, I recorded a story for The Porch and you can listen here:

http://utahporch.org/meg-walter-max-studio-story

You may have already seen the link on Facebook.  You may have already read the story on blog. I may be killing you with repetition, and if that's the case, I sincerely apologize.

Second, Google is trying to ruin my life by taking away Google Reader. So I re-added the follower list even though it's a total eye sore (see: right side of page, underneath labels). I know that most of you come from Google Reader, and I really hope you stick around after GR dies.

Third, this: