At Least They're Committed

For the second time in four years, I’m looking at my children and saying, “Look boys! Your mom is walking!” And they applaud my efforts as if I were a 1-year-old.

I can walk again. It’s not like I hadn’t been walking, as if I were wheelchair-bound or any such thing. But for the past two months my walking consisted of getting from Point A to Point B and that’s it. No sanity walks, no workouts. I don’t mind having a big ass, in fact I like it, but a big flabby ass? The horror!

This is not to say my hip is OK, it isn’t. I’ll have to get back in to see the doctor soon. I end up in bed early on days when I pivot much, such as cooking and cleaning and stuff. (Heh. It’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.) But at least now it isn’t constant. It goes away after an hour or so.

And speaking if hips, DS asked if me and Bugaboo23 if we’d want to do something. I said, “I’d be hip to it!” And Bug said, “OMG, Mom! I can’t believe you said that!” And DS chimed in, “I say that,” which prompted Bug to say, “I can’t believe you’d say that! That’s so 1960s!” to which he said, “Well, I only say it when I’m ‘being’ 1960s quoting movies.” and I laughed because it doesn’t bother me in the least and in light of my odd penchant for apocalyptic rock, it’s rather heartening to realize that “Iiiiiiiii’m not where it’s at.” (quoting Del Amitri)