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Chinoiserie Chic • Mid Century Modern • Palm Beach Regency Vintage Sales & Rentals


I'm a Good Fork

LeAnn Stephenson

I looked in the mirror the other morning - after wiping a clear spot in all the caked-on tooth paste splatters and the reflection I saw looked like Chris Farley with a hemorrhoid.  That is to say - I don't look my best first thing in the morning.  But who does? Right?  But here's the thing, I don't improve as the day goes on - I just kinda ripen, if you know what I'm sayin'.

So, this year I've pledged to improve a lot of things, my health, my mind, my body . . . well, you get the idea.  Anyway, one of the things that I've decided to do is learn Italian.  I think it is a beautiful language and it's been on my "To-do list" since my sophomore year in college.  I mean since there are so many Italians in Texas and I thought it would be nice to be able to converse with them . . . . . huh? . . . . Exactly! 

To give you a rough idea of the pace at which I tackle my "To-do lists," I'd like to share a little snippet of my daily activities.  The other day I found a letter that I had written to a dear friend concerning my daughter that I'd forgotten to mail.  I figured it just needed a little updating to send, so I steamed it open and after "Olivia is . . ." I whited-out "teething" and wrote in "driving."  I think, perhaps, this particular instance speaks volumes in describing my whole being.  Just to be clear, I'm what comes after the snail when referring to pace.

So, what was I saying?  Oh yes . . . . Italian . . .

I bring up the Italian for two reasons;  (No. 1) Yum!  and here I refer to the men and the food . . . . Am I right?!  and (No. 2)  I'm, as they say in Italian, una buona forchetta - which means that I'm a good eater or rather, quite literally translates to - I'm a good fork.  Please pay particular attention to the "r" in the translation - because without it I sound a little slutty.  And to be honest, I have been a bit of a food floozy lately and in 2010 my diet would have probably fallen on the slovenly side of things more than anything else.  I'm not suggesting that I'm a glutton, but in my family gravy is considered a beverage.

So, it's back to gym with me.  But this time I'm taking the whole family and we are gonna get healthy and in shape and all that junk.  Things have been going really well so far.  As a matter of fact, I've already been to the gym three times this week and yesterday I was named "Miss Varicose Vein" for my region.  Last year I shared stories of Naked Nana and others, but this year my gym stories will probably revolve more around the frightening fact that while I was asleep and away from the gym I went out of style. 

So, I think I will close this post the same way I closed last year's rant on exercise and getting in shape.  Though none of this has anything whatsoever to do with the "vintage" or the "inspirational" premise of this blog, my reasoning behind sharing this is to tell you that there are muscles in my body that have not been flexed since the last Bush administration . . . and now they HURT!! . . . and I feel VINTAGE!

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