Category Archives: Humor

The Legendary Saga of Brokebutt Mountain

It had started out innocently enough.

“Let’s go tubing,” they said, “it’ll be fun,” they said…

Liars.

That mountain became my nemesis.

That mountain humbled me.

That mountain gave me a reality check.

I went in there with a head full of fun and frolic, and I left with a limp, a whimper, and a cracked tailbone.

The night had begun uneventfully enough, with a fierce quest for adventure and winter time thrills.

I had never once considered the dangers. Especially since I had gone tubing before, and enjoyed it quite a bit.

I had also dipped my toe in many another endeavor without pause. I had skydived, and zip-lined, and navigated the roaring whitewater rapids in a raft…

I had jumped in headfirst into so many an adventure, that a night out tubing at the pass seemed harmless.

Not so.

We had arrived to find a bit of a snow/rain mix, and everyone was scrambling for the tubes, and rushing to catapult themselves down the icy hill into oblivion. So I grabbed the first one I could get my hands on, and quickly got in line.

The first time down, I definitely felt the rush. It was pretty slick due to the dense snow pack, and the light rain had added an invisible layer of slippery ice. But the tube I had chosen was a bit over inflated, and since I couldn’t nestle securely down into in it, I felt a bit vulnerable. And as I was going down the hill, I felt as though the tiniest bump might bounce me out of my vessel.

I furiously clung to the handles for dear life, and white knuckled it all the way to the bottom. Like a bolt of white lightning, I had rocketed to the base of the run.

And my very first thought after reaching the bottom of the hill, was that I needed to trade in my tube for a better one. 

A safer one.

But what I did not know then, was, that decision would drastically change the next ten months of my life… Continue reading The Legendary Saga of Brokebutt Mountain

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The Pretzel Heist

This is Fergus…and I suspect that he is on to me.

In a clandestine caper of snack-a-licious proportions, I have taken to a life of crime, and unlawfully lifted The Captain’s (my fiancee’s) coveted pretzels.

And Fergus, who is an adorable busybody, at the moment, is giving me the stare down while watching me eat the evidence.

I’ve gone rogue.

I have stolen them, and he is the snack sheriff.

I am a thief, and he is the pretzel police.

He is Sir Fergus McFluff of the Clan McFluff, and I can feel him silently judging me.

I am trying not to make direct eye contact in effort to dissuade him. But his gaze is locked on my every move and I can see him in my peripheral vision as he watches the pretzels go from my hand to my mouth and back again.

And as I have mouthful of sourdough pretzel deliciousness, I am caught in his cross-hairs of justice, and I find myself making excuses to his sweet face to justify my pretzel-napping.

On the other hand, he might just be waiting for some errant crumbs to come flying of my mouth in his direction for his own benefit…but that would probably just implicate him as an accessory after-the-fact.

Although I’m not sure if he knows about that contingency.

He does, however, look somewhat concerned that I may crack, and throw him under the bus if I am hauled in and pressed about the pretzels whereabouts. Continue reading The Pretzel Heist

May the Forest Be With You

The forest is my happy place.

A place of pensive reflection and whimsical exploration for the inner musings of my soul.

To connect with nature and to find my place within the universal fold.

A touchstone to the energy that radiates from deep within the earth and courses up through the core of my very being.

Especially in times of chaos and uncertainty, it has the power to move me with primal and ancient rhythms, and awaken me with a sense of enchantment and whimsy.

And on this particular day, I stopped to chat with a squirrel.

Because sometimes, a hot cup of coffee and a delightful conversation with a new (furry) friend is all you need to start the day off on the right foot.

But earlier, when I had walked by, I had been pelted by an acorn from above, and I had taken it to mean that on my way past that first time, I should have acknowledged his presence and given a nod to his territorial supremacy.

So this time, I stopped, and gave him his due.

First I offered a formal greeting recognizing his station as a Mad Hatter of sorts, and then, a stern chastising in reference to his tantrum.

But he was unreceptive of my input regarding his rudeness, and his manners as a result, had most assuredly not improved. This was more apparent as he proceeded to read me the riot act.

Apparently, he was not at all impressed with my conversational skills either, because he cocked his head vigorously several times whilst chirping and barking at me and giving me the what for.

I had attempted to apologize with a peanut, which he suspiciously snatched from my grasp and spun under his nose to inspect. But it was still an uncertainty whether or not my reparations were to be wholeheartedly entertained or unceremoniously rebuffed.

He began chirping more loudly.

Now, granted, my “squirr-lish” is a bit rusty (and not at all the strongest of my known woodland languages)… 

But, none the less, I was still fairly certain that I had just received a rather dubious proposition to join a shady backwoods tea party of suspect origins that would require me to bring my own nuts.

Hmmmm… Continue reading May the Forest Be With You

The Care and Feeding of My Fitbit


There is a monkey on my wrist.

And its called a Fitbit.

I have owned a Fitbit for a little over a year now, and sometimes, I wonder, if I actually own it, or if it really owns me.

Its kind of a symbiotic relationship.

Yes, I said relationship.

Because it has ceased to be a “thing” in my life, and become my technology created companion, a virtual cheerleader, and a finger wagging busybody. 

It is an all around ever aware conscience that follows me EVERYWHERE, and… I feel grateful.

What???

Yes, grateful.

It holds me accountable, and nudges me to push a little bit harder. It gives me a competitive edge, and for that, I am grateful.

But, as a byproduct, it has irrevocably changed my life, and the way I live it.

Gone are the couch potato days of yore, when I could sit quite happily for hours.

Gone is my urge to sit in a waiting room, or park close to the mall entrance.

Adios to seeing the world from a stationary vantage point, and hello to “let’s walk, I need my steps anyway”.

Back in the day, when I was 25, I was going out to clubs in my mini skirt, happily drinking wine coolers, and anticipating the impending alcohol induced “buzz” that was to follow.

And now? Continue reading The Care and Feeding of My Fitbit

The Zoomies


I couldn’t sit still.

I was restless, and aflutter.

As a formerly docile creature, I had found myself amidst a revolution of epic proportions.

I had somehow lost my sense of foreboding, and somewhere along the line, a fearless lion-hearted woman had slipped into my skin.

I was feeling sassy, and brave, and completely out of my depth.

Something had awakened within. Something that had “danger” as its middle name…

Oh, don’t get me wrong, I’m no stranger to living on the edge.

I mean, I’ve jay walked…

I’ve torn tags off of mattresses that clearly read “DO NOT REMOVE”.

I’ve been a risk taker.

I’ve worn Crocs when NO ONE thought it was a good idea.

I’ve done some pretty crazy things in my day.

There were even times when I would return videotapes to Blockbuster without even rewinding them….on purpose.

Oh yeah. I was a rebel. A wildcard. A renegade.

Throwing caution to the wind back in the day resulted in me wearing white after Labor Day, on several occasions, and not caring who saw me.

I have tasted the thrill of being an outlaw running afoul of the fashion police.

Common sense, and sensible shoes be damned!

Sometimes, when the door would say ‘pull’ …I would push…and I would push hard.

I didn’t care. I was oblivious to the consequences. I can’t tell you how many times I blatantly ignored the easy way, and did things the hard way- for absolutely no reason whatsoever.

But now?

Now I had upped the ante, and literally flung myself off the deep end into some pretty wild adventures.

I had taken it to the next level.

It was officially official…I had a bad case of the zoomies. Continue reading The Zoomies

The Curious Migration of the North American Gym Rat

image from @GymRatMemes
The gym.

I had driven past it every day on my way home.

I wasn’t ready yet, but I was going to go in there…someday….

Well, at least that’s what I told myself.

Up until this point, the farthest I’d gotten was the parking lot.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. I did make it to the front desk exactly one time, but I didn’t really count that as “going in”, since it was the very first time, and afterwards I had never darkened its doorstep again.

What were they all doing in there?

I had ridiculous visions of them all gathered around the weight benches, fist bumping each other, grunting, and pumping iron.

I was not an athletic person by any means, and I certainly could not imagine that I would ever be a person that would drive to this place happily, on purpose, and walk into those doors to be subjected to what ever exhaustive regimen or exercise in futility that awaited me.

But every once in a while, I would get sassy, wrestle myself into my workout clothes, and drive there, with inspired intentions, and there I would sit, in the parking lot, watching everyone going in and out.

What did they know that I did not?

Why did all of those people look so determined to be there?

And why was it was all I could do to drag myself to the parking lot and then try trick to myself into going inside?

I felt like there were some big secret that everyone knew about the gym, that if I drove there enough times, I would figure out. Like I would have some sort of moment of clarity, or an true epiphany…or a maybe a paranormal psychic vision.

And if not, sooner or later, I thought, I was going to get out of the car and march right in there and find out.

But today was not that day.

Today, I still had too many excuses to offer myself, only one of which was the fact that my Caramel Macchiato was still hot. I had paid five dollars for that tasty distraction, so I wasn’t just going to leave it in the car to get cold while I went into the gym…

Hell no, that was just crazy talk.

But I admit, I was curious.

Continue reading The Curious Migration of the North American Gym Rat

The Real Life Hunger Games

There it was…the supermarket, looming in the distance, the arena for Round One of the games.

Set against an ominous backdrop of foreboding skies, it was a place once filled with frolic and folly, where in bygone days, I had shopped willy nilly, and without pause while purchasing whatever struck my fancy.

A label was of no consequence. I would throw caution to the wind…”labels, schmabels”, I would say. But those carefree days were over.

For I had volunteered as tribute, and now I stood here with a purpose, eyeballing that monolith with cat like cunning. Oh it was ON…

Now it was a diligently planned endeavor, I was a girl on fire, and I was on a mission.

I had a strategy, and endless contingency plans…and a pocket full of magic faerie dust.

Now, I had lists, and bar code scanners, and meal plans, and a whole route laid out.

I was armed to the teeth with coupons and Pinterest recipes, and a fairly comprehensive knowledge of seasonal produce. I had points, and priorities, and Eco friendly re-usable bags.

I was a force to be reckoned with, and I was going to march on in there and take no prisoners…

But, even the most determined intentions can waiver.

And even though most of the time, I could deflect a nefarious snack item from a pretty fair distance by wielding my enchanted shield of Unicorn magic, it did seem that in some cases I was still vulnerable and easily distracted by certain specific tasty vittles.

I still felt like I had to be constantly on the look-out for dastardly delicious delights and daunting desserts of doom at every turn.

Because sometimes, I would find myself at the end of my trip to the supermarket with a whole suspicious pile of items in the cart that I had no intention or recollection of accumulating. And then, I would have to go park it somewhere in an empty corner, and have a serious conversation with myself about what needed to go back on the shelf, and why.

As if keeping it in my cart was going to get me pulled over by the Point Po Po, or frisked at the checkout… Continue reading The Real Life Hunger Games

574 Days After Day One

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The story continues…

Once Day One had come and gone, I was terrified that failure was inevitable.

That first week was a big wake up call, and I knew that I that I needed to pace myself.

Because, after my initial nosh fest with the Weight Watchers food on Day One, I had returned the following week, to discover that I had actually gained 1.2 pounds.

Seriously?? I wanted to give up.

My Day 8 was 282.2 lbs.

It all felt so hopeless.

But I tried to to stay the course, and I decided that I needed to once again make a list of all of my reasons not to throw in the towel.

I then faithfully continued to drive to all of my meetings for the next several weeks…

But I never went in.

I just couldn’t.

I just sat in my car, hiding in the parking lot, crying, angry with myself, and trying to work up the nerve to walk back inside.

A couple of times I had even stopped at the McDonald’s drive-thru on the way to the meeting, with the mindset, that since I probably wasn’t going in anyway, it didn’t really matter whether or not I ate the Sausage McMuffin and the hashbrown. (Okay, so there MIGHT have originally been TWO Sausage McMuffins and TWO hashbrowns in the bag, and some of it MIGHT have (hypothetically) never made it all the way to the parking lot)

I just couldn’t bring myself to go in there, and see yet another higher number on the scale.

So I just figured, that sooner or later, when I got tired of beating myself up and feeling bad, I would gain control of my downward spiral, get myself together, and actually walk back in.

And then, it finally came to me-

A divine moment of clarity disguised in a fast food wrapper…

While nibbling small bites of a hash brown, I remembered what my mom used to say about how to eat an elephant…one bite at a time, right?

Strange phrase, but the message was there. I paused …

I needed smaller goals.

Yes! I just needed something I could wrap my brain around …

Something that didn’t make me feel like I was going to have to climb Mt Everest with nothing but two forks and a shoelace… Continue reading 574 Days After Day One

Day One

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It all starts with Day One.

Day One is hopeful-

Day One is brave-

And Day One is the metaphorical line in the sand.

It’s the day that we finally protest, “Enough is enough”, and declare “I want more!”

It’s the crusade of a Warrior headed into an epic showdown for all the marbles.

When we come to the place where we cannot march forward without taking decisive action-

It’s the battle cry of the weary,  and it echoes,”I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired, and I’m ready for a change!”

We raise our collective fists to the gods of circumstance and shout, “Let’s do this!”, with all of the motivation and good intentions that we can muster.

It’s the day that we put our foot down with purpose, and then silently ask, “What the French toast have I gotten myself into?”

Because, let’s face it, Day One is a gigantic leap of faith.

It’s a promise that we make to ourselves to make better choices and continue to follow through.

Day One carries with it a crucial mindset that you have to hold onto, even after the initial Day One has passed.

It’s a turning point, a fork in the road, and a new beginning.

The essence and spirit of which needs to be renewed for each and every subsequent day that comes in its wake.

It is the first step on an arduous journey that challenges both your body and your mind.

Its the stirrings of a fierce determination to wrestle a beast of burden and bring balance back into the fold.

And it’s the deep breath that you take before you dive headfirst into the unknown.

Day One is the very origin of greatness,

And Day One is where it all begins….

My Day One was a chilly overcast morning in October of 2012.

I remember sitting in the parking lot giving myself a well rehearsed pep talk. Continue reading Day One

The Evolution of the Feel Good Pants

It was the final piece of evidence…..

While cleaning out the spare room that joins up with the laundry room, I noticed some stuff wedged in the space between the washer and the dryer.

So I grabbed the broom in an attempt to use the handle to fish it out-

I had found a truly ancient artifact … my long lost pair of old house pants.

There they were, in a size 5X.

And the only reason they probably weren’t completely worn out with holes in them, was because I had lost track of them at some point and they had been so well preserved like a fossil in the laundry room for the last few years.

I am fairly certain that I would have worn them until they had fallen apart, had they had not so mysteriously disappeared.

They were my favorite pants.

My comfy cozy, always fit me, super awesome, “feel good” pants. And looking at them now, I could hardly imagine that they had ever been mine.

So I put them on … Continue reading The Evolution of the Feel Good Pants