So, I went over my parents house tonight and my Mom made her version of a Chicken Pot Pie. New recipe, but delish. I think she could have touched it up with a little more garlic, or pepper…maybe a pinch of salt. But, it was good none the less. I just pushed all my little peas to the side, they looked like little soldiers standing there. They kept rolling back into my food, and I just kept right on pushing them back.

Dad gave me a lecture tonight about blogging. “There was an article recently that said that kids give away too much info online.” I swore that I didn’t tell you all where they live, or what kind of jobs we have. I just said “I blog.” I also told my gym buddy that I’ve blogged about her – at first she looked a little offended and then she was okay with it. I swear I say nothing bad, friend. Now I feel a little guilty because here I am….blogging about family and friends. Hardy, har, har. The only one I do blog about is Sidney and I wonder if what I say sometimes comes across a little wrong. Yes, we are having problems in the relationship but I’d like to think we’re working on things. I’ve got a big mouth and we should all just shake hands and meet right now because, you all know that I’m just going to blab it all out right now, right? And my Father totally turned around and said “And no one needs to know about your sex life.” Major blush factor right there and I have never said anything about that to anyone but my Dr. so that one was kind of a gross topic.

Anywho, we get to the gym and head right for the warm up room. It is wood floored, like a dance studio, with mirrors all around. We start by doing our stretches. First with the whole, side to side, then sitting on the floor and stretching our legs. We demonstrated “the butterfly” from Dancing school from back when we were like 3 or 4. We still can’t figure out what on earth that is supposed to stretch, but hey. It was something to try. We lifted some weights (I graduated to the five pounders, thanks!). I lifted frontways, sideways, backways. I even did the whole “circles” thing from back in high school. I think that one hurt the most of all.

I did some bench presses, the thing where you sit on the chair and use your legs to lift a bar. Yeah – totally did that one too. I had to gag at the cottage cheese reflection in the mirror though, because that was pretty gross. Next time I think I’ll wear pants instead of shorts to the gym. A whole bunch of high schoolers came in while I was using the little thing where you pull down the bar (I’m so not gym material, folks). And I rolled my eyes. Again with the whole “God, I’m so fat” thing. Seriously people? So, they sweated it out on the treadmill and a little on the elliptical. Finally one of the older gentlemen says “I believe these ladies were waiting on those machines.” And finally a sense of reason. There is a 30 minute timeline on the machines if there are people waiting for them. So, she went on the treadmill and I went on the elliptical. I started out on the lower pressure because, hell, I’m still sick and we all know that being sick sucks.

Then, we go out to Steak and Shake (it’s our ritual).
“We don’t have any of the beef soup left.” I looked at her like “Huh?” But I really just said “Then I’ll take just my salad.” So, she brings me my salad, and my friends salad and we are gabbing away. The girl didn’t come back to fill our drinks, or even check on our food. My salad was gross, by the way. The lettuce tasted a little sour, if that’s even possible. So, we decide that yes, we are going to splurge on the berry cobbler and chide ourselves “At least its fruit.” There are a group of people sitting up by the counter, talking to all the staff. We’re still waiting on our dessert and our drinks when this other guy walks up to the manager asking if his fries could have come out of the fryer in a square, like a log cabin. Dude, someone played with his food. Gross.

By the time we went up to pay, I looked to my left, and there beside me are two of those girls eating huge bowls of the beef soup that I had asked for earlier. Wonder why suddenly they had the soup again when a little bit ago they had said they didn’t. I did not leave a tip and I really don’t care. I’m sorry, but in my book, you only get a tip if you are 1) courteous, 2) have good service and 3) are professional about the way you treat your customers. I just hate bad waitresses. Really.