Shop Till Your Pedometer Drops

Janessa trying on some crazy platform shoes. I tried them on and had to have Janessa and Shari on either side spotting me. Designed, I'm sure, by orthopedic surgeons.


Shari trying on shoes.

Wednesday, my daughter Janessa and our friends, Shari and Debi Leavitt headed off to Vegas for a shopping excursion. Well, in our case, it was more like a window shopping excursion. (Having four teen-agers to register for school and outfit in new school clothes makes robbing a bank in August seem mighty tempting.) We did manage to purchase a few things, but the big story here is how much walking we did. Debi wore a pedometer and that thing said we only walked 2500 steps. But who can believe those things? I mean really, they come in a Happy Meal! Actually, I firmly believe that by the time we looked at the pedometer, it had reached its 100,000 zenith and started over. 102,500 steps. So in other words, we walked the equivalent from St. George to New York. All in one day!

This is helpful. Because if Brent wasn't impressed with how much money we spent, he certainly can't deny how impressive our physical activity was. He must really be proud. I know I am. That means I have already reached my exercise quota for the next four months. So, I'll start up again in December. Or better yet, I'll just ask Shari and Debi to go shopping again for Christmas. Then I won't have to exercise until May!

The Midnight Hour

Upon returning home from Lake Powell, I cleaned out the day's garbage from my car dropping it into our outside garbage cans. However, in my midnight post perfect-day stupor, I threw away more than trash. Before I could react, I felt my car keys leave my hand and listened as they rattled their way to the bottom of the garbage. After getting a flashlight, I spotted the keys, precariously balanced at the base of the can, contentedly resting in a pile of moldy grass clippings. Just out of arm's reach, I considered my options: a) don goggles, ear plugs, nose plugs, gloves and a neoprene body suit and climb inside, b) lengthen my arm through the means of a violent shoulder dislocation, c) try a coat hanger. Considering how pinchy nose plugs can be and how hard it is to cut my own meat with a torn rotator cuff, I chose the latter. After about 10-15 minutes of grunting, twisting, nose-plugging and an occasional Mormon expletive, I pulled out victorious.

Exhausted and smelling like congealed gravy, I slumped into bed. A few moments later, my husband piped up, "did you bring in your computer from the back seat?" I jumped out of bed. Too tired to dress and not tired enough to care, I stepped out into the balmy midnight air. The universe gifted a silvery crescent moon casting just enough glow to illuminate the streak. I stealthily grabbed my precious MAC and happily scampered back into the house like a mouse making off with a stolen piece of cheese (brings new meaning to the phrase mac n’ cheese)!

Through all of this, I only hope that I was able to give some insomniac a good laugh. Unless you live on Wisteria Lane, it isn’t every day one gets to witness a dumpster-diving, middle-aged woman streaking the neighborhood.

Lake Powell

Photo credit: Tell the Truth Travel

The other night I came home from a perfect day at Lake Powell. We took a long cruise up Navajo canyon, stopping at several spots along the way to swim, cliff dive and toss a football. We returned out of the canyon at sunset. There is nothing quite as enjoyable as a sunset cruise with fun people (thanks Jeff and Lyn Donovan family), a comfortable boat with ABBA blaring from the speakers, warm water, perfect weather and grand vistas!