Monthly Archives: December 2012


Lackadaisical snowflakes flittered through the air just after sunrise early one morning in winter.

I ran.

Ten snowflakes combined together to perform daring skydiving tricks before landing on the warm concrete and disappearing in front of a gaping onlooker.

I inhaled sharp cold air.

Three lazy snowflakes climbed on top of their brother and let him do all the work of increasing their air resistance for a nice gentle descent into the bold green grass at the children’s park.

I ran.

Two tiny snowflakes raced to beat the another to the third bush at the grey house on the corner of Outer and Joliet Drive.

I smiled the snowflakes took an extra swirl and tumble in an air disturbance created because I was running.


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This Is My Christmas OAM Moment

You can have your Elf On The Shelf. It’s cute but not for me. Besides, the Elf I know has a stick up his butt. Literally. My sister will have to post the picture for you. It wasn’t even an “I Hate Elf On The Shelf” incident. We found him that way. But, I’m getting off the subject…

Instead of Elf, I do something else at Christmas that makes every person I know say,”WHY?” It’s not even a question. It’s an statement indicative of a major waste of time.

What do I do that is so terrible and over the top? I decorate my presents.

20121218-155306.jpgI finally found a paper suitable for the black star ribbon that I’ve had for years.

20121218-161158.jpgThe ribbon color AND style must match the paper.

When there are plenty of matchy-matchy ribbons, it’s time to get out the glitter.

20121218-161215.jpgPlain tissue paper is best but sometimes you just can’t resist drawing on a big canvas present

20121218-161224.jpgFor my fairy goddaughter

Even then, glitter gets a little boring and you need to think outside the box. (Ha! Pun!)


No, I don’t save the wrappings each year. Although, I do save ribbon IF it has wired edges. There is one wrapping that I have kept for decades. It was from the ones who started all these crazy ideas. My own OAM and Dad.

The doll was originally given to my sister and I. The hat removes to reveal a present inside. Miss A gets to open it this year.

I know what you are thinking, “Yes, it’s pretty, but… Why?!”

12/19/12 Edit: This photo was suplied post publishing by my Brother-In-Law and Sister.

Rose Christmas 1959


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My Little Ponies

When we lived in Port Huron I would have to drive through Detroit to get to the airport for business trips. Every time I would see a billboard alongside the highway that read

That was it. Just a blue sign telling me to Release the Kraken my endorphins. That was before I was well versed on running and exercise so it took some time before I understood the meaning of the phrase. The campaign was effective though because, over ten years later, I still think of that billboard on the side of the highway in Detroit.

This morning, ten years later, my very cheap DVD player didn’t want to cooperate forcing me to advance to the next level on 30 Day Shred. Considering how little exercise I have performed in the last year, I was much more capable than I expected, especially, since this was only the second time I had shredded (this year). Yes, you guessed it. My success resulted in an endorphin release.

So, what does an endorphin release look like? Does it look like the Kraken? No. Do you recall how, in a cartoon, a toon that gets hit on the head with something that knocks it out will have little birdies flying around in circles above it? For me, it’s a little like that except my endorphins are My Little Ponies that gallop all around before disappearing over the horizon.

My Little Pony Endorphins

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Desperation Into Determination

“OMG! I am so fricken miserable in these pants. I feel like I am going to burst open like an overstuffed sausage in a hot grill. Weight watchers…take me away!!!”

That’s desperation.

The good thing about desperation is wanting, intensely, to get out of that situation. The problem was that it was rooted to that particular moment when I was miserable. After three days, I was no longer bloated from excessive salt intake, therefore, no longer miserable. I was also not desperate anymore. My pants felt fine which was sufficient to give into simple justification to eat anything, thus, starting the desperate cycle all over again.

What I need… is determination. I need to take my desperation and turn it into determination.

Other than being able to wear pants without the button popping off and shooting someone’s eye out, I have to admit that I’m not much concerned about my weight. However, weight isn’t the only fitness measurement in life. So, why “give up” as it were? It is now time to declare things I am determined to do or not do as the case may be.

I am determined to be able to run 6 miles anytime I want. I could run 6 miles now, probably, maybe, but it would be a desperate attempt at which I’d probably stop after 1.3 miles then collapse on the convenience store floor with one hand stretched out in a desperate search for one last Twinkie. I felt my best when I could simply say 6 seems good today then simply go run it.

I am determined to not let 40 be the slide into a stocked medicine cabinet. My husband who is the poster child for all things stress can do to you, hit 40 and found himself saddled with maintenance drugs like Nexium. He keeps taunting me that when I turn 40, I will acquire my own personal pharmacy. Maybe the need for prescription drugs will be out of my control but if I don’t start drinking enough water to fill the Shedd Aquarium and avoiding cases of timeless Twinkies, well, then I might as well carry around a white flag with a matching pill box. I am determined to fight for good health.

I am determined to be The World’s Strongest Man. Shortly, snowmobile season will be here, hopefully. I worry that I will get my snowmobile stuck in a snowbank. My clothing will get soaked with sweat as I desperately attempt and fail to free the sled. Then my clothes will freeze causing my body to go into hypothermia as my temperature drops to 97 degrees before I am located through a massive search and rescue mission. I will have to spend the remainder of the trip in the hot tub which sounds delightful until you visualize me in a swim cap with rubber flowers circa 1950 and it’s a vision you’ll never fully recover from. I can simply avoid this desperate situation in the rubber swim cap if I stay determined to become The World’s Strongest Man (on the Barefoot Rose scale, naturally).

20121204-153714.jpgWomen on the right and men on the left.

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Filed under Barefoot, exercise, running, snow, Weight loss