Kelsey and Alex are coming to spend the night before they dash off to Virginia Beach to run a half-marathon together. Cute. (One of the many differences in our approaches to dating… exercise did not equal romance to us.) Regardless, can’t wait to see my little Spartans!
Kelsey keeps talking about playing speed Scrabble with us tonight. I think this is because she knows she’s going to kill all of us in it. Even though I am generally known in the family as the resident wordsmith, Kelsey is generally known for being smarter than everyone–and she OWNS at word games. My dad does, too. The two of them compete like fiends over the weekly word jumble in the paper. Blood may have literally been shed over the last Boggle match. So, it’ll be an interesting night. For sure.
Back to the exercise comment. I feel very vindicated by this article: Why Going to the Gym Is a Waste of Money, Time, and Resources. They also cite that Time magazine article that came out a number of months ago, which says basically the same thing: that what we eat is way more important than what we do on the treadmill. Not that exercise isn’t important–it’s just not the cure-all for poor health and obesity. Something my wise mother has been telling us for years.
But my wise mother is also Superwoman, so it’s kind of unfair to be taking advice from her. She works out every day, eats tons of stuff from the earth, grows a killer garden, and teaches full-time. And she’s super HOT. Probably the most unfair thing in the world is when your 51-year-old mother is better looking than you are at 22. 22! This is supposed to be IT! Sigh. C’est la vie.
Still. I’ve been craving some physical activity lately. I’ve been paranoid ever since I read that article about people who sit for more than six hours a day (titled, cheerfully, “The Longer You Sit, the Earlier You Die”). Gah! I need to get a job wrangling wild horses or running a daycare for boys with ADHD or SOMETHING. I try to get up and walk around and stretch at my desk. The morning yoga has helped.
I should actually try running, though. It’s just… it’s still hard enough for me to get up at 6 a.m. every morning. Imagining getting up at 5 a.m. is another thing entirely. And it’s not like I’d be getting up to eat a bowl of blackberries and sip a cup of tea with a novel… I’d be getting up to RUN. No motivation there. This is why we need a dog. If we had a dog, Guion and Joy-Crushing Landlord*, we’d have to be active every day. I just want a sweet dog I can walk around Charlottesville. But that, unfortunately, is neither here nor there. For right now. (Also because the dogs I want are notably unsuited for semi-urban life.)
Also, this is great. I just died laughing when I read the caption. Maybe it’s not that funny, but it was to me today, chained to a desk in a taupe cubicle.
Monday Snax will be Tuesday Snax this week, because of that glorious, mourn-the-loss-of-the-summer holiday, Labor Day–or, as we now call it, Belmontonia Day. Maybe I’ll take some photos of our house’s annual hipster soiree?
See you then, chickies.
(*Our landlord is not actually a joy-crusher. He’s just being a responsible property owner. We think he’s a great landlord. Hi, Mike!)