February 28th. Finally!
I reached my goal of walking an average of 2 miles a day for the month of February. I actually managed to walk one whole mile over my goal for a total of 57 miles!
But you know what that means.
My freakish self-competitive streak is compelling me to set a higher goal for March.
I won’t lie, getting the 57 miles in was NOT easy. I fell behind early on and spent most of the month trying to catch up. I was finally on track again by the 27th.
Better late than never.
Even so, I’m feeling kinda chicken when it comes to setting a higher daily average for March. FirstHusband and I were walking a 3.1 mile route he tracked but it sent us walking past a sewer treatment plant. yuck. Yesterday, we tracked a new 3 mile route that keeps us closer to home and away from any stinky landmarks. So when we walk together, we’ll walk 3 miles that day. But. We don’t walk together EVERY day, so setting a 3 mile per day average is too much of a jump for me. I don’t like to set myself up for failure.
So I still don’t know what my walking goal is for March. (and yes, I know tomorrow is March 1st.)
I have decided to add push-ups. I think I’m going to shoot for an average 5 a day for a total of 155 push-ups during the month of March. 5 seems so reasonable. 155? not so much.
microactions, microactions, microactions.
PinkGirl, slumping down beside me on the love seat: (huge sigh)
Me: “What’s the matter?”
PinkGirl: “It appears my optimism is annoying.” (so her brother says)
Me: “Tell him it’s not annoying, it’s exasperating.”
PinkGirl: “No. I don’t want it to be anything except helpful.”
I’ve been trying to write. I don’t mean blog, I mean write. Why is there such a significant difference? Blogging is easy.
Writing is paralyzing.
I’ve written and re-written a book outline no less than 10 times in the last two weeks and yesterday, with a rare day to myself, I took my husband’s advice and “just started writing already.”
I wrote 3367 words (6 and a half single spaced pages) and let me just say:
When I was finished, reading it over, all I could think was “Who would EVER want to read THIS?”
not good. I was back to paralyzed.
So today, while avoiding writing altogether, I found myself in Goodwill, with my head tipped to my right shoulder, perusing book titles.
(ya know how your mother used to say if you made a certain face it was gonna stick that way? Well I’m waiting for my head to stick that way, as much as I book shop.)
Then a book title jumped out at me: “If You Can Talk You Can Write”
People, I can talk.
I glanced at the back and the first bulleted description read:
“Conquer the Killer Ps – Perfectionism, Paralysis and Procrastination”
I put the book in my basket immediately.
I couldn’t wait to get home. I’m anxious for the cure, the quick fix this book is sure to provide. (What? My expectations are too high? Unrealistic?) The boys are at a track meet somewhere about an hour and a half away, PinkGirl is singing in the shower at the top of her lungs and I cop a squat (I have such a way with words, it’s hard to believe I’m having trouble writing) on the back porch with my new book and a cup of coffee. Will I identify with this author? Can he help me? Let’s see:
“For some reason, everyone thinks, ‘I should know how to write.’ No one thinks, ‘I should know how to play the piano.’ But when it comes to writing, ‘I should know how to do it.’
What if I told you a story about a man who buys a piano, sits down to play for the very first time and is shocked when he doesn’t sound like Arthur Rubinstein?
‘I don’t understand,’ he complains, ‘I’ve listened to lots of music, I should know how to play the piano.’
Ridiculous you say? Yet there you are: Banging away at the typewriter, you’re mortified when your work isn’t as good as Ernest Hemingway’s. Hell, it isn’t even as good as Ernest Goes to Camp.”
that was unexpected. I actually laughed out loud.
Not as good as Ernest Goes to Camp. yes, I do believe I can identify with this author.
I’m also having lunch with my friend – a professional writer – tomorrow so I can beg her to cure my paralysis for some insight and advice.
My niece did this workout in 17.08 minutes today.
Let me just say: ouch.
and tomorrow, DOUBLE ouch.
Zuzana, the girl in this video, did it in 32.46. If I attempt this workout, I will NOT be posting my time. no, no, no, no. That last exercise, one leg wall squat, will leave me crying like a little girl.
Here’s a link with a breakdown of the workout and a photo of each exercise. 550 Rep Fat Massacre Great name for a workout.
I’ll admit, I’m freakishly drawn to give this a try, but I’m going to need some accountability to finish it. Maybe FavoriteSon will do it with me.
Anybody up for it?
(It’s been a loooong time since I’ve published a “therefore I quote” post, I almost forgot the format…)
I read, therefore I quote: John Grisham.
I don’t read much fiction, but one fiction writer I usually try to keep up with is Grisham. (It must be all these years working with attorneys.) Somehow, I missed reading “The Last Juror” and it’s been a pleasant surprise. How have I been reading Grisham’s work all these years and not realized he is a Christian? Even FirstHusband knew.
I love the way Grisham’s faith is evidenced as he describes the scene in which the main character, a small town newspaper editor named Willie Traynor, has been invited to lunch at the home of a Christian southern black woman:
“I sat across from her and was ready to yank off the lids and dive headfirst into whatever I found when she took both my hands and lowered her head. She began to pray.
It would be a lengthy prayer. She thanked the Lord for everything good, including me, “her new friend.” She prayed for those who were sick and those who might become so. She prayed for rain and sun and health and humility and patience, and though I began to worry about the food getting cold, I was mesmerized by her voice. Her cadence was slow, with thought given to each word. her diction was perfect, every consonant treated equally, every comma and period honored. I had to peek to make sure I wasn’t dreaming. I had never heard such speech from a Southern black, or a Southern white for that matter.
I peeked again. She was talking to her Lord, and her face was perfectly content. For a few seconds, I actually forgot about the food. She squeezed my hands as she petitioned the Almighty with eloquence that came only from years of practice. She quoted Scripture, the King James Version for sure, and it was a bit odd to hear hear use words like “thou” and “thine” and “whither” and “goest.” But she knew precisely what she was doing. In the clutches of this very holy woman, I had never felt closer to God.
I’ve been repeatedly struck by the ease with which Mr. Grisham continuously incorporated his faith into the pages of this book and how succinctly he presented the gospel in a non-threatening and way. The path to Christ is clearly and fully laid out – by an educated, well liked, open-minded character who objectively considers the beliefs and doctrines of multiple factions of the Christian faith. Willie forms opinions about faith, religion, Christians and non-Christians. He agrees and disagrees with some aspects of each and allows himself to question and doubt. It’s been a springboard for my own opinions, questions and doubts and I realize I haven’t censored myself with subconscious self-judgment.
I know I’m late to the party because this book was published in 2004, but I’m praying that the Christians who read this book will be encouraged and strengthened in their faith and that Holy Spirit will use this book to draw non-Christians closer to a saving faith in Christ.
“. . . therefore I quote” If you have a quote to share from something you’ve read recently, feel free to comment and/or include a link to your own “quote” post.
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There’s a sequel to the doghouse commercial!
You’ve really got to watch the first one to get the full effect of the second one. I especially love the subliminal “suggestions” that constantly drone in the background of the first one.
PinkGirl dropped our binoculars a few months ago while jumping on the trampoline. I know, I have no idea how she can look through binoculars and jump at the same time, but…
Anyway, it was a real bummer because we back up to a pond and the woods and a river, so there’s great wildlife to see and I wasn’t seeing it because the binoculars wouldn’t adjust focus anymore. Since I’m so Ramsey frugal these days, I was thinking I needed to find myself some binoculars at a garage sale, but I just hadn’t gotten around to it.
Friday night, I told FirstHusband: “I’m going garage saling (I’m just making up words today) in the morning.”
He took PinkGirl to rehearsal on Saturday morning and called me from the truck: “Did you know our neighborhood is having a community wide garage sale today?”
Now that’s just too much of a coincidence. I can’t remember the last time I actually took a Saturday morning to shop garage sales. It’s been over a year. Maybe two. or more. Seriously, a LONG time.
So I write FavoriteSon an I.O.U. for the $30 I take out of his wallet to supplement my available cash,
(what? like I haven’t ever emptied my wallet for HIM. Besides. He’s a teenager. He never needs any cash on Saturday mornings, he’s in bed.)
I get my coffee and I’m off.
First stop, is about 8 houses away and what do I see? You got it.
And these aren’t the cheapo plastic kind you find these days, these are the honkin big, heavy kind they used to sell when I was a kid. SO much stronger and better than what PinkGirl broke.
Thank you Lord! I should have made a bigger list!
Then, Saturday afternoon, PinkGirl was sporting new jeans, new shirt, new jacket, the periwinkle manicure I gave her Friday night, a new haircut…and ratty old nike shoes with my old laces.
She wanted boots. This from a girl who would go barefoot 24/7 if I let her. I anticipated an unproductive shopping trip in my immediate future.
We went to Payless. nothing. Some big shoe store in the mall. nothing. Sears. Bingo. Clearance rack. She found a pair of black ankle boots in less than 5 minutes. Bonus. So did I. They were marked $19.99 and each rang up for $9.99!
Thank you again, Lord! I really should have made a bigger list!
This isn’t the first time God has been my personal shopper! When I pray for him to help me make frugal choices with the money he blesses us with, he answers hands on!
1. We crate our two cats at night because they usually get into so much mischief when given free rein of the house in the dark.
2. I foolishly forgot this fact and had pity on them last night and let them roam the house because FirstHusband was on travel.
Memo to Me:
1. crate the cats tonight.
2. wake them up every. single. time. I see them asleep today.
“aww, that’s mean!” you say?
If you’ve got time to hang out for a few minutes, check out what else makes me laugh: Pragmatic Compendium’s “laugh!” category.
Symptoms: cloudy head, sore throat, mild headache, tender neck/glands, spaghetti arms, fatigue. this morning’s stuffy nose seems to be taking a mid-day break.
Treatment: A quadruple preemptive attack: Zicam, Airborne, a germ burnin dry sauna and PRAYER.
die baby germs, die. a swift, horrible death.
any other ideas? homeopathic remedies? alternative medicines? unproven theories? old wives tales?
UPDATE: I’ve added echinacea and vitamin C, and I’m taking real Sudafed tonight – the “show the pharmacist your ID” kind, not that wimpy placebo they put out on the shelves.
Beautiful praise song I’m learning this week…