So I have decided that as 40 quickly approaches, like at mach speed, I need to take a little better care of myself. So last Monday I took Isabelle's ballet costumes off the treadmill, dusted it off and actually used it for which it was designed. Four times last week actually. I pat myself on the back.
Today, we had a memorial birthday party for Trent's dad at Chico's, Bruce's favorite place to eat. I felt especially pressed to break the old treadmill out tonight after a couple of those pieces of pizza. If you are from Moses Lake I need not say more.
Isabelle read the telltale signs - hair in a pony tale, bangs pulled back in a head band, tenny's and yoga pants, and asks "Are you going to exercise, Mom?"
"Yes I am Isabelle."
"So, how's it going?" she genuinely asks, followed by an appraising look up and down, then says, "you look -pause- better?!"
Thanks a lot Isabelle.
Sigh
Get on treadmill.
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London playing soccer
Varsity Soccer 2010
Isabelle the Ballerina
First pointe shoes
Brennan
Hanging out on the potato piler
1 comment:
HA what a crack up!
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