I’m just gonna go ahead and break every rule I can think of today. The first being: Never post on a holiday. Ta-da! I’m a rebel.

Basically, today is the first day in Operation: Run, Fat Girl, Run that I’m making excuses NOT to exercise. HOWEVER. It’s not technically a scheduled exercising day. The brilliant 3-day-a-week exercise plan in #c25k leaves 2 days in a row where I don’t have to sweat my balls off in my quest to sweat the fat off. Today is day 2 of said 2-day break. So, really, I’m not making excuses at all. Except that I had planned on getting up and getting Ms Fat Ass out the door at 7:30am. And really, the snuggling Claire was doing at 7:30, 8, & 8:30 was way more important than hauling said Ms Fat Ass out of bed.

And right now, at 9am when I just got up to actually get Operation: Run, Fat Girl, Run up and at ‘em? It’s about 120% humidity and already 109º outside. I’d rather sit here in the climate-controlled Messy House searching for the perfect DSLR camera bag that doesn’t make me look like I’m on an Outback excursion for National Geographic. mmmmm… Outback…..

Plus, it’s kind of my job to tell you that I have a post up at Aiming Low that’s pretty much perfection as all my posts tend to be. *ahem* EXCEPT, due to some weird DNS/IP address/auto-posting/whateverthefrucks, it’s not actually up today.

So really, the whole point to this post it moot.

Happy Memorial holiday to all, and to all a good night.

So this is what happens when I leave town for a week during the bestest holiday of the year:

I go without posting on any of the blogs on which I contribute for a whole (31-21) + 2 days. I think that’s 12.

TWELVE WHOLE DAYS the internet has gone without my sprinkling of awesome. You missed it, didn’t you?

Or were you too busy eating extra creamy buckeyes, extra sugary pecan pie, and extra salty mashed potatoes. Or maybe that was just me.

In the last (31-21) + 2 days I’ve been thinking about this post. This “Getting Back Into the Swing of Things” post. This monumental welcoming back to the written word. The post I’ve written in my head over and over and just KNEW I’d remember it because I interjected keywords and word association into the post in my head when I sat down to type.

Yet, I sit and write this awesome garbage.

You’re so welcome.

What nommy (that’s for the alimartell) foods have you added to your thigh cheese this holiday season?

I’m going to preface this by saying my sister and I can sometimes revert back to our 12-year-old selves when we get around our mother. It doesn’t happen when we’re together without her, but add our mom into the familial equation, then you’ve got a clusterfuck of teenage hormones.

A few Christmases ago, I was 3 months pregnant with my oldest daughter. I felt enormous. Little did I know, I’d double in size and stay that way for the next five and a half years. I felt like I needed at least a queen-size bed to share with my baby daddy. Anything smaller would kill the baby, obviously.

My sister and I along w/ my baby daddy were coming home to my parent’s for Christmas, and since we got there first, I claimed the room with the queen-size bed. You know. For the baby’s life. FOR THE SAKE OF THE BABY.

Can you guess what happened next?

My sister came into my parent’s house, marched into the room with the big bed, AND ROLLED OUR LUGGAGE TO THE SPARE BEDROOM WITH THE FULL-SIZE BED.

oh yes she did

And oh yes, I moved them back.

AND OH YES SHE MOVED THEM BACK BACK.

There was a cacophony of tears, yelling, insults. My dad was stuck in the middle. Don’t you dare feel sorry for him. He lives in his own little version of paradise. He felt the need to appease both his daughters. To make it even. Make it fair. What all fathers do for their fighting daughters.

He sided with his youngest daughter.

My sister won the battle. She got the big bed.

that bitch

But this is what I remember. This is how we make our memories. By insult-throwing, luggage moving, teenage-style tantrums.

Happy Merry Everything

Do you still fight with your siblings? Or are we the only ones who see the world through our 12-year-old Coke-bottle-sized lenses?

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I’m live and in colorish over at Aiming Low today (well, December 15th)! Show me some loves, won’t you? Won’t you?

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My homegirl, Meghan, is hosting the Second Annual Great Bloggy Holiday Card Exchange. I posted the card back in November, but because I listen to Meghan cause that girl can cut a bitch, here’s the card again.

My girls are WAY too cute.

I’m teaching them to cut a bitch like Aunty Meghan.