ThreePeat and F'in Frosting

For three blissful nights in a row . . . I have been able to squeeze in working out on the treadmill while Dr. J gave Lil Pumpkin her bath. It has been heavenly. I am so amazingly thrilled that he assembled the treadmill I agonized over whether to buy . . . and not only does it work perfectly, it suits my needs to a "T".

I never suspected that working out from the privacy of my basement could be so satisfying! But there I was, 3 nights in a row, sweating my ass off in my grubbiest t-shirts that I should have stopped pitched in the trash about 30 pounds ago (heavier), but still keep around cause they are so big and roomy and perfect for sleeping in (and they hold lots of memories). On my new treadmill I am singing while I work out, gesturing wildly, and bopping around like only a white girl can (that means I look like a freak who should be institutionalized -- think Elaine from "Se.infeld" doing her patented dance move, LOL). But I am SO LOVING IT!!! (Thank you, Cookie, for building it!!!)

Which brings me to frosting . . . because we have leftover frosting from V-Day baking, the past three nights prior to bed I have taken to secretly swiping a spoonful and greedily licking it off. And for three nights now, I have had completely phucked up dreams, ranging from the enlightened . . . I selected my seat in church via the intenret much like you pre-select your plane seat . . . to the twisted . . . I am wearing a bikini top in which the bra cups are made out of the toy cymbals from my daughter's "band in a box." I am blaming ALL of this on THE VANILLA FROSTING! [Surely it has nothing to do with my own inner-weirdness, eh?!]