I get up in the morning so I can feel miserable. Its true. When I wake up in the am, I know from experience, if I don't get up right away, I will really feel yucky in a little while if I stay in bed. I can't stand that feeling. So, I get up. In a vertical position, I can't focus, I have lost my perspective and then I command my legs to move one in front of the other. They move but they feel like someone else's legs. As I go down the hall, the legs get re-attached and start feeling like they belong to me. I come into the living room and sit down and my bum starts to feel like its asleep and starts to hurt.

I know what all this is about. God is getting back at me for being lazy all my life. What a luxury it used to be to lie in bed after I woke up. I could lull around and take my time to stave off the dreaded getting vertical for the day. I might, if it was the weekend, get away w/ reading a book for a bit before starting the day. When my husband was nice, I might have even gotten a morning's cup of coffee in bed. Definitely, when the cup of coffee arrives, the rule is: Do Not Get Up.

I have a friend with whom I went to high school. He always said getting up ruined his whole day. He was a chip of the old block, his Dad. I don't know which one I loved more. Both were complete gentlemen and both were hysterically funny. Johnny and my Dad would have a great time together because they had the same sense of humour. Of course Johnny's Dad and my Dad were great friends for the same reason. It was so much fun being with the three of them. They always kept me laughing.

Anyway, I digress. I get on the treadmill. What a great machine, vanity wise. Sometimes, it gets rid of or lessen the horrible feelings listed above. I do about (10) minutes/.25-.33 miles and then either get on the computer or sit and read a book. Usually, my son will start making my morning coffee (quite a ritual as he refuses to use a grinder and will only use a mortar and pestle to grind the coffee beans. He's quite the afficiondo when it comes to making coffee. He takes after me but has taken this ritual to a whole new realm). Again, the Coffee rule listed above applies. Do Not Get Up. Savor the coffee; this in itself is quite a ritual.

But then I start to feel the yucky feelings again. I get back on the treadmill for another (10) minutes/.25-.33 miles. The result of this is I have buns of steel. I have no bum, but what I do have back there is steel.

Years ago, when my parents had people over, I would cater their meal for them. The great secret in our family that no one talked about was that my Mom was a really bad cook. There were times when she could put on a great menu but I think in her heart of hearts, she really didn't like to cook. She hated housework, too. Unfortunately, I inherited her genes in that regard. But, by the same token, I inherited my father's organizational genes. So I can't stand a messy house, I can't stand to clean it up. But if anyone else cleans it up, I have a hard time because I like my sheets and towels, for instance, folded a certain way. I like my dishes put away in a certain place. This last bit, I have come to realize recently because my son and his wife, when they empty the dishwasher will put away the dishes but never in the same place as before. Some people search for food, I search for dishes. But, again, I digress.

I was telling how I catered for my parents. One time, they had a couple over for dinner and I decided to grill some steaks (Peppercorn Steaks...yum!). It was a nice summer day and I grilled them outside. I had all the accroutrements. As the steaks finished, I took the plate, the spatula, oven glove, etc. out w/ me. Since my hands were full, I opened the glass door w/ my bum. I broke the glass. Buns of steel. This is the vanity part.

Gotta get back on the treadmill. A friend of mine is having a birthday party in a couple of weeks. I need to work up my endurance for dancing and running around. I love Charlene. She is one of the nicest creatures God ever created. She keeps me laughing. Take Care. LK