The Air That I Breath

Good morning,

49 degrees here on the prairie, and we have ourselves an issue with fog this morning. 

Yesterday was yet another gorgeous day.  As the pheasant sang his plaintive squawks of desire, I slathered on the sunblock, raked rocks and hummed spirituals.  I finished the entire project, I'm happy to say, and have the blister on my thumb to prove it.  But it didn't matter to me in the least that my hand (and my shoulder) were a bit sore.  My paltry boo-boos were far better than being tethered to a desk, either inside of a school or in the nursing home where I volunteer on such a wonderful day.  I was on the good end in the bargain basement, if you ask me.  

I spent the majority of  my day outside, listening to the peepers and smelling the aromas of springtime, better dubbed here as "Lo, Fair Maiden of Country Air, Thine Name is Sweet Pooh."  It became particularly rank as I peddled my bike closer to the neighboring barn to feed the horses their carrots.  Sitting by the barn, right next to the smelly pile of fresh manure, there sits a mountain of wonderfully rich compost, the Doo-Doo Daddy of them all.  In another month, this will be loaded by our Elmo the Tractor onto the trailer and will lovingly be tilled into the soil of our gardens.

With all of this incredible weather, it's tempting- to till in compost, to plant some veggies and to put in the beds of flowers.  Gosh, I even saw this CRAZY man mowing his lawn.  But I shall show restraint.  Although the weather would speak otherwise, the calendar reminds us that this is still March and we need to remember that this isn't the Sun Belt.  At the very least, we shall have frost.  

Besides working the chain gang on rock patrol, I went for a long walk at the state park.  Lots of people were there bob-bob-bobbin' along, jogging, pushing strollers, being yanked down the tarred path by their mutt.  After, I took care of the riff-raff in our perennial garden that runs along the length of the house. 

Last night was spent on the phone, working the jaw with my best friend, followed by a call to my brother and all the while watching SU push themselves into the Elite Eight against Ohio State.  My brother drives me berserk, but you already know that.  I will be calling him again this weekend, when he is more lucid, and we will have a serious Fireside Chat.  When I taught, that's what I termed these little episodes where I sat kids down in my office and had private little discussions about the need for change.  Obviously, I didn't get as good at them as I thought, as this must be about the thousandth one I've had with the bro.    

Oh, in between all of this, I trotted off to Fat Ass Club, where I lost one pound.  I'm back to a loss of fifty-eight pounds, with nineteen left to go.  Two steps forward, one step back, slow and steady wins the race, blah, blah, blah.  My life has become a reflection of silly platitudes, but that's okay by me.  It's how I've been whittling away at the pounds and it seems to be working.  I've been knocking away at my own personal pooh-pile of lard.  Watching my portions, trying to eat healthier, exercising.   Silly me.  I saw in my email yesterday that Groupon was offering 63% off a pair of Weight Loss Hot Pants.  It was tempting, but they don't come in my favorite color, which at the moment appears to be prison-issue orange.   

Today begins with chores, followed by swimming at the pool.  The entire rest of the day shall be spent in retribution of my playing hooky yesterday.  I shall belong to the nursing home, where I volunteer my time in the business office.  By the time I finish up there, the hubby will be home waiting for me, belly up to the trough, wondering what's for dinner.  I'll set my GPS on Rue de Sweet Pooh and it shall lead me home to the air I breathe, the man I adore and to some leftover chicken. 

Have a great day.