Rising from the ashes

Well, not really.

The good news is that I can now write about whatever I please. The bad news is y’all have to read it.

I will make a sincere attempt to not dribble too much while i’m on here and to keep posts to things people enjoy. e.g. cats, food, my misfortune, dancing.

That reminds me of something I read the other day regarding grammar and the use of i.e and e.g

So to keep everyone updated on the happenings with Sr. Bachata and I, we’ve started working out. 2 weeks ago we drove out to Westfield bought some boxing gloves (mine were pink, of course) and vowed that we would work off the layer of gastronomical delights that has taken up residence around both our waistlines.

Monday evening was D-day. I set out an agenda for us to follow, because Lord knows we would have got 5 minutes in and given in to some Funniest Home Videos instead. I won’t lie, it was bloody tough and I’m sure we were both thankful not to have gone through that infront of any witnesses – I was the colour of a beetroot and Sr. was reminding me of a steam train trying to get uphill!

Break to Tuesday evening when those lactic acid build up pains start. I’d been comfortably rewarding myself with a zucchini and something gnocchi, entree size so don’t look at me like that, and had finished up when I went to stand. Things were not feeling good. Had I accidently stabbed myself in the leg with my fork? Did the ambiance candle drop and severely burn my bum while I was busy scoffing? No, my boxing escapade had come back with a vengance (not too dis-similar to Flitty’s out-of-box logs when she’s in a huff with us)!

Oh the pain! Why would god make us suffer like this for trying to be good?? Surely, it only encourages the delicious pizza nomming from Piatsa washed down with a cider? Who in their right mind gives a hoot about looking nice in your swimmers when it hurts like this the next day?!

Now apparently, we’ve agreed to do this twice a week. On Tuesdays and Saturdays. As Samual L Jackson says: “I gotta bad feeling ’bout this…”


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