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Today Dutch went to a playdate for 3.5 hours, which meant that Cook and I spent that much time transporting her there and back (it's not that far away, but it's a two-bus trip, which makes for a lengthy ordeal on the leisurely Sunday bus schedules). Cook dropped her off; he jogged the 6-mile round-trip. (Dutch loves being pushed in the jog stroller. She acts like a queen in a sedan chair - I always half-expect to see her waving a fan and noshing on bonbons.) I picked her up; I walked the three miles there and then we bussed home.
My brisk walk there, unencumbered with bags or offspring, was the most exercise I've gotten in weeks. (I was swimming pretty often in the fall, but that takes WAY too much time.) I have never enjoyed anything like the alleged runners high that people are supposed to get when they exercise, but I do appreciate the weird mental jittery rut I get into. I can't follow any thoughts through, they just stutter along, and that's kind of nice. These are the questions I pondered on my walk, which took me along some busy streets and through some industrial neighborhoods:
1) Who will I vote for in the presidential primary?
2) When did Martha Stewart start selling wine?
3) What does the inside of this warehouse (labeled "Love Silks") look like?
4) Who will I vote for in the mayoral election?
5) Does my butt look as massive and jiggly as it feels?
The answers to these questions, at which I arrived after some research, can be found below, in no particular order. Match the correct answer to the question, and you'll win a gold star! (Figuratively. I have no gold stars.)
a) It is decidedly so (answer arrived at thanks to a large and reflective plateglass window).
b) Sam Adams.
c) Early this year.
d) No way of knowing.
e) Cannot predict now.
Also, I just want to point out that taking 30 extra pounds for a walk makes walking much less fun. Those of you who've never ranged out of a healthy weight for your height should know that being fat is not only corrosive to one's self-esteem and overall health; it is also very hard work. And then I retrieved Dutch, who acted limp and whiny all the way home, so I think I can make a strong argument that I had to carry 70 extra pounds for that leg of the trip. Phew.
My brisk walk there, unencumbered with bags or offspring, was the most exercise I've gotten in weeks. (I was swimming pretty often in the fall, but that takes WAY too much time.) I have never enjoyed anything like the alleged runners high that people are supposed to get when they exercise, but I do appreciate the weird mental jittery rut I get into. I can't follow any thoughts through, they just stutter along, and that's kind of nice. These are the questions I pondered on my walk, which took me along some busy streets and through some industrial neighborhoods:
1) Who will I vote for in the presidential primary?
2) When did Martha Stewart start selling wine?
3) What does the inside of this warehouse (labeled "Love Silks") look like?
4) Who will I vote for in the mayoral election?
5) Does my butt look as massive and jiggly as it feels?
The answers to these questions, at which I arrived after some research, can be found below, in no particular order. Match the correct answer to the question, and you'll win a gold star! (Figuratively. I have no gold stars.)
a) It is decidedly so (answer arrived at thanks to a large and reflective plateglass window).
b) Sam Adams.
c) Early this year.
d) No way of knowing.
e) Cannot predict now.
Also, I just want to point out that taking 30 extra pounds for a walk makes walking much less fun. Those of you who've never ranged out of a healthy weight for your height should know that being fat is not only corrosive to one's self-esteem and overall health; it is also very hard work. And then I retrieved Dutch, who acted limp and whiny all the way home, so I think I can make a strong argument that I had to carry 70 extra pounds for that leg of the trip. Phew.
Comments
2) c
3) d
4) b
5) a