Ass Peas

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My right leg has been steadily tightening since I started with my running group, so after tonight's hill workout I decided to be kind to it and ice it down. I walked in the front door and through the house to the kitchen, where Blair had dinner waiting. I grabbed the one ice-pack we own out of the freezer, along with a bag of frozen peas. I put the ice-pack under my knee and slid the frozen peas under my right buttock. We ate dinner and chatted about our day.

After dinner, I carried the bag of peas to the freezer.

"What are you doing with those?" asked Blair. 

"Putting them back in the freezer," I replied. 

"Ass peas? You're putting ass peas back in the freezer??"

"Are you kidding me with this?" I asked. "It's not like any of the food actually touched my body. There is a plastic barrier between us."

Blair made a face and shuddered.

"How about this," I offered. "We'll save the ass peas for guests. They'll never know."

He brightened. "Brilliant. I love it."

So dear blog readers, don't say you weren't warned. If you come to our house and we serve you peas, I would think twice before I ate them. 

And as my runs pick up, you might want to reconsider the frozen cauliflower and broccoli florets, too. Cheers.

Setting High Goals

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A member of my marketing group raised an interesting point. She'd read that most people don't aim high enough with their goals. People aim for the mid-level, where success might be found, but mid-level is also where 80% of the population is floundering about. By shooting for above where you think you can land, you knock out a big chunk of the competition who isn't even competing at that level.

Just something to think about...

Crap, Crappity, Crap

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What's the point in having a blog if one can't vent? It's almost 10:30 on Monday morning, and I'm sitting in Caribou Coffee all set to get to work on a book proposal that needs done, like, yesterday. I've got two and a half hours until my Masterminds Marketing meeting but just realized (drumroll, please)... I left at home the entire folder I need for the meeting which includes all the handouts and info for my portion of a presentation on author videos.

 This means I get to hurry my ass home, grab the materials, and drive back into Greensboro. Truly, I love wasting $30 worth of gas and an hour and a half drive time on a stupid mistake. No writing time now--and I had a "come to Jesus" talk with myself this weekend about getting my act together and getting some real work done.

I'm upset, but looking for that blue sky. As in, at least I realized I'd left the materials at home in time to go fetch them. That's something, right? Right? I'm also ticked because I pride myself on being organized. I don't know if it's perimenopause, laziness, or the gods are conspiring against me, but my focus, energy, and organization has been for crap for several months now. 

So... I just choked down a multigrain bagel (blue sky again: I wanted a doughnut!) and getting ready to pull the plug and head home. 

I read a quote this morning: "It's not the world's fault you wanted to be an artist. Now get to work."