The other day I was sitting on the sofa with my leg slung over the arm simultaneously watching NCIS, flippin' through my new Coastal Living Magazine, and munchin' on some Bugles - multi-tasking equals power, people! The Bugles that I hadn't eaten yet were perched on the tips of my fingers posing as Lee Press-on Nails, when, all of sudden, like out of nowhere comes da Hubbs and little did I know, but I was about to have one of those, "I -love-you-you-are-perfect-now-change" conversations.
Da Hubbs walks in and sits on the floor beside the couch and says, "I'm gonna do some sit ups . . . . You want to join me?" I said, "No," and continued, "I have crossed and uncrossed my legs several times this afternoon and I'm pretty sure that move is classified as an intermediate to advanced yoga workout . . . . it's true, I heard it on Oprah!" "U-huh . . ." he grunted. Then, I followed with, "I'm doing my Kegel exercises right now anyway." "Kegel exercises?" he questioned. "Yeah, you know I'm flexing my pelvic muscles . . . . Like internally like . . . . . Its supposed to strengthen my core," I said, as I ran my Bugle adorned fingers over my stomach region. The Hubbs kinda shot me a sideways kinda look and said, "Okay, well it doesn't look like you're doing anything but having a snack. "That's the beauty of this particular exercise," I shot back, "you can do them anywhere, without anyone knowing!" So every time he looked over at me, while he was counting out his sit-ups, I would kinda scrunch up my face and tilt my head heaven-ward and squeeze my right eye shut to imitate physical exertion. To be honest, I mostly just looked like a was about to sneeze or like a bee had flown up my nose - either that or like I was constipated and needed some of that yogurt that Jamie Lee Curtis eats.
I felt like I had escaped the "Fitness Forest" unscathed and could breathe easy. But I was wrong, because 20 minutes later he decided to go for a jog and invited me along. I had to go this time cuz when he asked me I was caught in the act of polishing off a Haagen-Dazs Bar. As we ran, I was trying to keep up and look all in shape and junk, when I got a huge stitch in my side and had to come to a screeching halt on the trail. The Hubbs started jogging in place while trying to encourage me to push through it and continue. What I wanted to say was, "Listen up, Triscuit, I'm fairly sure I dropped my uterus back there, and all this sweating is making my mid-life acne worse, not to mention that, at this precise, moment my underwear is wedged up somewhere close to my cerebellum - so back off!!" What I did do was a little different - all that I really could think to do at that moment was throw up or cry, but I couldn't decide which one to do first. I decided I should throw up first and get out of the way so when the uncontrollable sobs and snubbing started, I wouldn't suffer from a 1960s-rock-star-type-death.
I have to tell you, barf really comes in handy when you are trying to get out of doing stuff - just ask my Mom or my 1st grade teacher! Da Hubbs just wrapped an arm around me and told me to hang on and quickly took me home and tucked me into bed and handed me my magazine and got me a Diet Dr. Pepper.
That's it . . . that is my big segue into this month's episode of "SO, THAT HAPPENED AND NOW LOOK WHAT I FOUND IN COASTAL LIVING."
No, really, look what I found!
One feature I was particularly taken by was the piece by Steele Thomas Marcoux on Manhattan Beach designer, Jill Johnson, and her labor of love. She converted a 1922 one-bedroom shack into a four-bedroom beach bungalow, nearly doubling the cottage’s size without enlarging its original footprint. Johnson shares how she remade a rental mess into her dream cottage, one room at a time.
I'm all inspired now . . . where's that paint brush?!
Photos courtesy Coastal Living and Grey Crawford.
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