Treats from the Treadmill

You are in for a treat with this blog post because I might as well be stoned. I'm high. I had a great morning at the gym (my 3rd day in a row) and I've been dancing to silly songs for the past hour. If anyone of you ever shows up with a video camera to peer through my windows, I'm dead meat. I'll never show my face again.

Don't do that.

But like I said earlier this week on Facebook. I shoulda been a back up dancer for Snoop Dogg. Just sayin.

This morning I put on work out pants (the dry/breathe kind) that Shawn might have slightly pee'd on last night in my lap when I snuggled his little naked body after his bath. I was in a rush. I don't promise that I'll never do it again. But unless you were actually near me this morning in the gym, you have no right to complain. (Sorry Susan, you might actually have a right).

I had a conversation in my head this morning on the treadmill with my late Aunt Brenda. I really wish I could see her. But this morning, in my head, she told me that it is perfectly okay to like Miley Cyrus. And it's even okay to dance a little when "Party in the USA" comes on. I think my Aunt Brenda would have really liked Miley Cyrus. She woulda bought the CD. And by the way, Aunt Brenda, I dance alot. Is that still okay? (I'll let you know if she answers me next time I'm on the treadmill!)

I had a bright idea to purchase a 20 ft Christmas tree. Thank God I didn't actually go through with it. I need to scale that idea back a bit. But that's what adrenaline will do to ya.

Is it wrong that overtly sexual songs are the ones that contribute to me doing 20 extra minutes on the treadmill? I'm thinking...whatever works, right?

I'm a mess. I need a shower. I'm so hungry I could eat a moo. And I'm so thirsty I could drink a moo. A chocolate moo. But, that would be bad. So I won't.

Tomorrow is Asher's sweet Christmas program at school. His Christian Pre-K. I've got to seriously get my Bible on. Where is my holy?

Oh Lawdy, help me.

I really do love Jesus. I really do.