steps to a more svelte you

...and by "you" I mean me.

Disclaimer: I am not a health guru by any stretch of the imagination. However, I have done some homework on the topic of health & fitness, tried numerous times & tactics to motivate myself, & 1 1/2 years ago I married an awesome guy who loves to be healthy. This is the plan I have come up with for reaching my health & fitness goals. And if you're anything like me (LOVE sweeties, large carbonated drinks, carbohydrates, have a hard time sticking to rigid diets, and generally dislike cardiovascular-challenging activities) this may work for both of us. We'll see, I suppose.


Step 1: Treat yourself.

Before embarking on your journey to a most excellent you, have a night all to yourself with a few of your favorite things. Mine just so happen to be (from left to right): Reese's cups (large), Bluebell Dutch Chocolate ice cream (which must be eaten mixed with a tad bit of milk so there's a little creamy crunchiness in every bite...mmmm!), angel hair pasta doused in garlic & herb spaghetti sauce & lots of melted cheese, & and extra large diet Red Bull (which does, in fact, taste like carbonated Sweet-Tarts), & last but not least (even though it is not pictured here) is a bag of hot kettle corn.Oh! and new sparkly nail polish. But we'll come back to that.

Enjoy treaties of your choosing--slowly and preferably not all at once--whilst doing a favorite thing of your choice. 

Mine happened to be watching classic films on Netflix.

Then stand buck-necked (I know that's not the word. But what if there are children reading this!?) in front of a large mirror & notice how you feel about the current state of affairs. Then put on something lovely to sleep in & know that tomorrow you will feel slightly better about that same state of affairs.

Now, this is key: (1) Before going to bed, write down your fitness & health goals somewhere you can easily view them every day. I wrote my weight goals & timeline with dry-erase marker on my slidy mirror with a picture of what I want to look like at the top. (2) Jot down a list of activities you want to accomplish on day 1 of "Getting Svelte." They should include some exercise & an eating plan, but it is also important to list other goals in there, too. For example, my list looked a little bit like this:

-Get out of bed at 9 am

-Crunches & push-ups

-1 egg and half a peach for breakfast

-Cardio for 30 minutes

-Cleaning

-1 bottle of water, tomato slices, and grilled chicken strips for lunch

-Shower & get fine 

-Dinner with family

...

This may seem over-done or nit-picky, but the first day of any health goal is key to success. If you start strong you are way more likely to keep going strong. And lists are awesome! Don't you just LOVE crossing stuff off a list. Best. Feeling. Ever. Sometimes when I am writing to-do lists, I even write stuff down that I just got done so I can go ahead and cross it off again. But don't tell anyone, because that sounds kinda pathetic, ya know?

Step 2: Get yo' game face on, girrrrl!

When you wake up in the morning, determine to bring your A-game. Do those crunches; eat that boiled egg or cup of cereal or whatever; get those shorts on & get your buns on that elliptical (or treadmill or in the pool or pushing a mower... ya know). Just do what you do. And do it with a vengeance!

If you are having trouble getting motivated, might I suggest blasting the song "Fergalicious." Then every time you get distracted from your goal, want to stop those crunches b/c your abs hurt, or want to eat 5 donuts instead of the 1 you promised yourself, sing-talk the words "I be UP in the GYM just workin' on my fitness! He's my witness. I put yo' boy on rock rock. And he be linin' down da block just to watch what I got!"

Seriously. 70% of the time it works every time.

Step 3: Cut & stacked. Just like yo' abs is gonna be.

 I am pretty sure this is the most important step...

Make healthy snacks easily accessible!

It must be done. When you buy a hunk of celery, cut it up! Right away! Put it on the top shelf. That way when you're feeling snacky & you look inside that fridge, it is right there within reach. I prefer jicama, so I cut up a fatty stack of that. Also red peppers are pretty filling & super vitamin-rich. Those jellos are 10 cals a pop. That's what's up.

Do some research of your own to find out how many calories your favorite snacks have in them. Then plan accordingly. Don't keep tempting foods around, cuz you know they're gonna get gone. Even if you hide them, you WILL find them again. Duh.

If you want more tips on what to eat and how much, just ask. But for me with a full-time job, I like to eat a portion large enough to satisfy my belly & nothing more. Once I feel that my body is content (not my taste buds or my eyes or my PMS), I have to stop eating. If I need something just to taste, I will chew a stick of Trident or drink some water (or a Pepsi Max, more likely). In between meals, drink lots of water. That will keep you from snacking as much.

Step 4: Get your kitchen on.

Get creative with your cooking. I figure if we are going to be eating smaller portions & have to do it while cooking with as few fats, sugars, & carbs as possible, we might as well have a little fun with it, right?

My favorite thing to do to come up with yummy healthy meals or snacks is to go to AllRecipes.com and hit up their "Healthy" recipes section. Then I find a general idea that looks interesting or convenient, and I usually alter it to make it more healthy or more appealing to me. For example, the picture above is a mini-meal inspired by a recipe for Caprisce Insalata, which is tomato slices topped with a hunk of fresh mozzarella, a basil leaf, sea salt, & freshly ground pepper. Well, I didn't have sea salt or basil leaves, & I didn't really want to put a hunk of mozz on a piece of tomato because... well, do I need a reason? So I decided to put a breakfast spin on it & beef it up with some egg. The finished product was 3 tomato slices topped with 1 scrambled egg with teensie bit of mozz & a pinch dried basil mixed in, a little garlic salt, ground pepper, & cayenne pepper. Very scrumdiddleyumptuos, if I do say so myself.

Bottom line, if you are going to put in the effort to cook healthy, it might as well satisfy your creativity as well.

Step 3: Channel your inner Fergie.

 Some of you may be thinking, what is her deal with Fergie?! No, I don't have a woman crush on her. But I do like her 'tude. She knows she's got the goods. And she works it. Now, I'm not about to go sporting that outfit she's got on, but I wouldn't mind trying those abs on for size. But I thought for starters, I would Fergie-up my nails. In just a few minutes & with nothing but a little polish, I made myself feel 

G-L-A-M-O-R-O-U-S. 

And in all honesty, that's actually the most important. When you look good, you tend to feel good. 

--------

But no matter what goals you may set, what size waist line you have, what you eat--- the real objective is to be good to yourself. Take care of your mind & body so they can always take care of you. If you happen to look better in a swimsuit, become a better cook, & have really great nails along the way-- hey! more power to ya, sister! 

Wide-eyed Friday...

Just a few discoveries to share... 

(Even if you don't think they are real discoveries, try to pretend that they are.)

(1) Tinted shades: $3.99. 

Feeling like a Die Hard character every day: Priceless. 

 

(2) Ummm... the Man-Half can play the guitar.

And it's hot.

For reals.

(3) Leftover packaging becomes very useful on a rainy day.

That's why I don't clean out my car as often as I should. (Yep, that's why.)

(4) When eating food you are not entirely familiar with,

it's very important to know exactly what you are ordering.

(5) Railway tickets here will cost ya $1.25 plus a tip.

--------------------------------------

My apologies for the lack of postage this week. I was dying.


Just kidding. Seriously though, we accidentally ended up in an emergency room, and they told us I had pharyngitis. Which sounds pretty serious. But it's not.


I'm okay now. But you can still send flowers chocolates and ice cream if you'd like.


Happy Friday to all, and to all a good night.

Oh, how I'm dreaming...

...of this place...

 

 Clint, can we pretty please go here someday? 

Tomorrow??? 

Okay!!!

(None of these photos were taken or are owned by me personally. If you would like to know where a particular photo was obtained, I will locate the link for you.)

Wide-eyed Friday...

(Don't know what a Wide-eyed Friday is? Well, neither did I till I wrote this lil' diddy. My humblest apologies for slacking off last Friday. I sort of promise it won't happen again.)

And here's the wisdom, righch'ere:

It's okay to not like a store but to LOVE something they are selling. (Oh the deep thoughts, I know. But keep on reading. Maybe it gets better. But probably not.)

Take, for example, Lands' End. I am not in love with the store. But I do get their catalog every month, and I maybe keep it in my closet and copy some of the outfits occasionally. I do not love Juicy Couture; in fact I think most of their stuff is a-lil-too-much. And I'm not just talking about the price tag. But I do love this JC sequin shirt-dress. Isn't it a stunner? (It would be even more stunning 't'were it on sale, no?) And perfect for the girls' trip to Vegas coming up, right? Maybe belted with skinnies or some leggings and heels or as a swimsuit lounger... Who knows? The possibilities are endless! And those sweats! Good heavens-- I could get down in those, for realz.

But see there, now I've gone and gotten myself all distracted. The real reason I bring this up on a wide-eyed Friday such as this, is because I found the cutenest cardigan ever today. At a boutique I don't particularly care for that much which I found out about via the lovely blog The Lookbook (which I do care much for).

And without further ado, I give you the greatest cardigan ever! ever! ever! ever!

See what I mean? It totally deserves its own echo. But sadly, I will not buy this little number at this particular time. Because Clint is not a doctor yet, and I am a receptionist. And it is not my birthday or Christmas or Easter or Valentine's Day or Wife Appreciation Day. It's just Friday in the middle of the summer in the stinking hot middle of Houston where energy bills are like Dementors. They suck out your soul. (And yes, I am totally stoked for the final installment of HP. Don't mock, please.)

So the point of this little wide-eyed finding (congratulations to those of you who are still reading!) is--- don't limit yourself. You may not like the store, but you may love something in it. Similarly, you may not love a particular person, but you may find something about them that you like. And that goes for cities, jobs, classes, restaurants... you name it.

Give yourself a chance to enjoy the start of a glorious summer by finding something you love in something/place/one unexpected!

(If you need help, start by watching Beauty & the Beast, Pride & Prejudice, then Anne of Green Gables+ Anne of Avonlea. Serioulsy, they will cover all the necessary bases.)

Did you have any wide-eyed Friday moments? Any pearls of wisdom to help a sistah (or brother, I suppose) out?

Yes, I'll take Love on the rocks. Shaken, not stirred...

This past weekend was a whirlwind. As you can see, the Boss Man (which is the name I have just now christened the man-spouse with when he is wearing a tuxedo) and I went to a wedding. <Insert shout out to the newlyweds who are now on their Hawaiian honeymoon!> Because my better half was a groomsman, we were involved in every part of the festivities. Every. Part. Which made for a long weekend-- a fun weekend-- but a long one.

Here's the thing, okay? I'm awkward. Like not in a conversation so much (well sometimes in a conversation, I suppose), but sometimes in large group settings or anytime that I don't really serve a purpose... I get awkward. I thought for a teensy second as I wrote this that I haven't always been this way, but I really have. Dangit. For example (and this just happens to be a conversation example, unfortunately...), once upon a time a guy asked me out on what I thought was a pity-date, so during the date I tried to let him know how much it was okay if he wasn't really into me by talking up a gal pal of mine and even suggesting that they get together sometime. Awkward (sorry dude-who-shall-not-be-named). But you see, I was confused as to my purpose on that date and was therefore--AWKWARD. 

I confess this to help clarify the wedding festivities situation for you. Clint was a groomsman; I was a groomsman's wife. Clint grew up with the husband-to-be and 1/4 of the people in the room. I grew up with no one in the room. Not even with Clint. And to make the matter slightly more awkward, I was wearing my tallest heels and Clint was barefoot. I looked like a giant. And Clint's not even a short person. I really am just a giant. A GIANT I TELL YA!

Anyways, anywhere the groomsmen went the day of the wedding, that's where you could find me, walking 10 steps behind and looking like a total creeper. And sweating because it was literally hot enough to melt my face off. (And when I say literally, I promise it is not a misnomer. It really did melt my face off. Hence the lack of pictures of me at the wedding.)

Don't even get me started on my awkwardness as the reception. I didn't know whether to mingle with Clint's old guy friends, excuse myself to go chat with the "old" married women club in the back, or dance it up with the groomsman whose spouse was out of town but didn't have anywhere else to mingle except on the dance floor. I opted to do a little bit of each. Except I only danced when Clint could dance. Didn't want to appear any more awkward than I did already.

But upon reflection I have determined that next time I am in an awkward situation, I will simply do all in my power to make it awesome. Awkward and awesome, as Clint likes to say.

So my goal from now on is to take every potential run-in with my old companion Awkwardness, give her a little face lift, and rechristen her as Awesomeness.

Starting with some new shades. Which cost me 4 bones on the men's rack at Ross and have the potential to make me look like a female cop trying to be a bad-a (which can be really awkward). But in light of these new realizations about my awkward self, I have chosen to put on my favorite lipstick, fluff up my hair, add a little 60s glam head-scarf action, and let these cheap-o-sunnies make me feel really cool. All the time. Like a drive down the Ortega Highway with the top down. And that is awesome.

Oh oh oh, also this video rocks. It's awesomely awkward, I would say, and totally motivational. Especially if you are currently trying to get off those training wheels...

Any awkward moments all your own this week?

Copper just isn't my color, I guess...

Officer: "Can you tell me why you were speeding?"...

Ummm... the speed limit is too low; I really wanted a Diet Coke; I was rushing to rescue my imaginary unborn child from a potentially burning building...

Me: "I'm sorry, I guess I just wasn't paying attention."

Officer: ..."So (insert small condescending cough here) do you come down Buffalo often?"

Me: "Um, I guess. A few times a week."

Well, first of all, I was going 38 in a 30 (sidenote: the speed detector on the side of the road said I was going 33) on Buffalo Speedway. That's Speedway. Not DriveLikeYourGreatGrandmaWay.

Secondly, can we stop pretending that by stopping me you are doing Houston a huge favor at 9 am on a Saturday morning? It's Houston not Pleasantville. Wait 2 minutes and catch someone blatantly running every stop light on this 2 mile stretch. Or going 25 over in a Lambo. Or about to mug the old lady with the shake-weight and fanny pack on the back-road you just abandoned to come out and teach me a lesson.
For the love.

Officer: "And where's your registration sticker, Miss?"

That's Mrs. to you, Mr. Officer. And my registration sticker? There's a sticker for that? You never hear an officer in a ticket-scene of a movie say, "License and proof of insurance, and good job getting your registration sticker on that windshield." I mean I did make the trip to the registration office TWICE-times during my workday to get it. I paid for it. I brought it home. The car is registered. But of course there is a sticker for that in the mountain of paperwork I was given. And I should know that it goes right below the state inspection sticker and right above the Texas star and right beside the Texas flag. And close to my heart.

Me: "Well, honestly officer I have no idea."

15 minutes later. Because yeah, it takes that long to decide what a reckless, sticker-less, speed-demon of a citizen I am.(Meanwhile, all the participants from a lawn party across the street have come over to see what the disturbance is and move their cars. Suckers thought the policeman was there to issue parking tickets. I would have laughed had it not been utterly humiliating having all those people circle my car and stare in my window as I tried and tried not to cry.)

Officer: "I'm gonna cut you a break. But not a big break..."

Oh good! I love not-so-big breaks! That's really the best kind, because we wouldn't want me getting cocky or spoiled or anything, right?

One "failure to display current registration" citation later...

Officer: "And SLOW DOWN on the road next time, okay?!"

I did my best to choke back the tears as I watched the next 3 weeks worth of grocery money fly out the window with all the bits and pieces of my weekend dreams.

Well, ya know what? I fought the law, and it kicked my butt.

But gosh-dang-it I got my stinkin' Diet Coke.

Who's yo daddy?

Disclaimer: This is in no way a slight on the public officials who serve to keep us protected, only on the flawed system that charges for every paper signed and then overcharges for every paper not displayed. And possibly on every officer who has ever pulled me over and treated me either like a 2 year old or like a hardened criminal. (That would exclude the very nice officer who gave me a ticket for going 20 over in a 25. But he inexplicably called for backup. Guess the 4 roommates in the passenger seats were too much for him to handle.)

Blah blah blah, Big Foot...

This is our living room. Well, this week anyways. I have this nervous tic that causes me to rearrange things monthly... at least. But I think this time I almost love it. I can almost leave it alone.

My camera has ghost-radar, so you'll have to ignore the floating sun spirits...  No big thang.

This table was purchased via Craigslist. It has a lovely story that goes along with its purchase featuring 2 hour-long drives, a house in the backwoods of Pasadena, a shirtless mystery man with lots of tats, a tattoo artist, bribe money, 2 ragamuffins, and some Windex.

Clint took me to one of my most favoritest of places this weekend (IKEA!!!) to purchase these peonies and the white table tray. And maybe 2 hotdogs, a large Pepsi, and a bag of Norwegian chips for under $5 (and there would have been frozen yogurt purchased if it hadn't been for a mechanical malfunction). But seriously, IKEA is the stuff dreams are made of, don't chya think so?

This little grouping is covering up some massive plugs leading to the back of the TV. It is the only part of the room I can't quite figure out. Any suggestions?

In other news-- I guess I have always known this, but this image just settles it...

Our future babies are gonna be HOT!

(FYI: The pic of Clint is during last night's haircut. He had no shirt on, so naturally I pixellated his chest for decency's sake. And because with all the hair I cut from his head now lying on his chest, he kinda looked like a yeti with a really cute face.)

I would love feedback from any and everyone regarding the living room. I feel so close to being done, but I know there is something missing. Curtains, for example. But what kind? And an area rug would be nice, but there are just so many out there. Unfortunately I have expended our decorating budget. It started at zero and it has now drifted into the negatives. So, I gots ta find it cheap. And by that I mean on the side of the road...

Wide-eyed Friday...

It's Friday. That glorious day which ushers in all of our weekend dreams. I can see the dreams; they are hovering over every person in this office building like a speech bubble ready to burst wide open.

And being that Friday is the most wonderful kind of day, I feel that maybe it should have its very own special something in this Parlor. It should be a day of discovery and fun findings. 

And so it shall be, for so it is written:

Friday is Wide-eyed and ready for adventure.

This Friday's wide-eyed discovery is one of inner strength--- which means... confession time. (Brace yourselves. It's gonna be a long one.) You see I have been going through what you might call an identity crisis. Since I was probably 5. The thing is, in my little span of life, I have moved about a bajillion times. Each time I moved somewhere new, I had an opportunity to become someone else. To be more or less or the person I was before. And so I did. And along the way I borrowed little bits and pieces from each place of residence to add to the character I was forming. 

School shopping became my favorite time of year, because that was when I got to pick out my costumes to complete the new me. (Plus, I'm a girl who loves me some clothes. Uh-huh! So I guess that's pretty natural.)

Anyways, I think this little crisis (if we can really call it that... maybe internal struggle is less dramatic and more fitting) really came to light when my awesome sister-in-law Jennifer said to me as we were rummaging through Target shoes "I saw these sandals the other day and thought of you. They are very Becky style." And I thought, I have a style? Soon thereafter my wonderful friend/coworker Mary came into the office with a new sweater she'd just purchased and said that when she bought it she thought that is so Becky. And I thought it is? (I did like the sweater very much, Mary!) And as I have been developing this little blog, those of you who actually read my ramblings may have noticed that the design has changed at least a trillion and one times. And when I was putting my profile together for the Blogger, I couldn't even think of what to put in the categories, ya know?! Pitiful!

At any rate, these little instances got me asking: Who is da Becky and what does she do? I mean I know I'm a child of God. I know I am a sister, a daughter, a wife, and a messy eater. I know about my preexistence and my post-existence. But what about now? What about me this very very second...?

(Is this making sense? I don't know. It doesn't really make sense in my head so much either. Ugh.)

So I have done some deep deep remembering and dredging up and examining of the soul and what-not, and it has been a tiresome journey through my history of foolishness and folly (with a  few moments of inspiration and ingenious thrown in there along the way). I recalled a lot of defining moments. I remembered my days of dress up. I remembered how much I loved putting on makeup. I remembered dreaming up how popular I would be at the next school I went to. I remembered trying so hard to figure out what it was that I needed to do to be like this person or that person. But one memory was the most poignant: I remembered how I tried for years to impress a single guy with the way I dressed and the way I wrote and the way I talked. I remember a particular time when we went out and about, and I had bought some new shoes for the occasion that did not fit right with the tights I was wearing. They kept sliding off the back of my feet. I felt awkward and embarrassed. But the very next time we went out, I probably wore a shirt that was a teensy bit too low. And a gaudy designer sweatshirt with designer jeans and a new leather handbag that I was so proud to have purchased all on my own. But I still felt awkward. And the thing was, he never seemed that impressed with me. And I wondered why.


Then it dawned on me, how could anyone be impressed with me when I wasn't being myself? And then it dawned on me that I just said "being myself." I MUST know what that means. In my innerest of cores I must know what being myself feels like. But it feels so jumbled up in the past and the future and all the gray area that is the present.

So I looked really deep down in that innerest of cores and stared it down and said, "Innerest core down there, what does it feel like to be myself?"

And here's what she said:

It feels like the first time I realized I was in love with Clint. It feels like every time I say something even slightly witty, and he looks at me like I am the champion of the world. It feels like being in the temple with family and good friends and being so full of joy that it all wells over and down my cheeks. It feels like Clint's pajama pants and his gray cotton t-shirt. It feels like late night runs for sweet treats and living room blanket forts and long walks and holding hands. It feels like Santa is real, and I want to be a secretary when I grow up. It feels like shower-songs and a 90s dance party. It feels like a shoulder to cry on and needing a shoulder to cry on. It feels like continually changing and growing but with a good foundation to rely on. It feels like creativity and happiness and lots of love.

So maybe it just doesn't matter if I have completely pegged what my style is. Maybe it's not all that bad if I change my mind and try to make things better and better and better. Maybe it's okay if we move a hundred thousand more times. Because knowing where I come from and where I'm going and who it's with is enough for me right now. I may be indecisive, and I may be young. But I have it all in the palm of my hand. The answers and the love and the magic. Every person I have ever been has brought me to this moment, and I have looked over the little self that is left and have entrusted its heart to someone who loves that self.

And I've looked myself over, and I say it is good.

And I say for now, it is enough.

Happy weekend.

Why won't this mosquito just die?...

I mean I have killed it a katrillion times. At least! Ugh, the nerve of these bugs. And just yesterday a cockroach totally thought it could chill in my basket of recycling. I was like, Uh-uh. No, sir. Not at this administrative assistant's desk you don't!

And I dumped that sucker in the recycling bin where he was promptly smashed by heavier objects. Because I don't take no pris'nahs! (Please ignore that double-negative. It is cancelled out by the thugness.)

And ALSO a large spider made it's entrance into our place of residence last night. Right before our very eyes! We were just lounging on our bed, minding our own business, when the hairy bugger crawled right through the crack in the door. Like a--- well, like a hairy spider, actually. Because is there anything more terrifying than a hairy spider?

Nope. Well, maybe a hairy man climbing through the door-crack. Yep, that's scarier.

Well, needless to say, I smashed him. With my bare hands. (NO! Not with my bare hands, because I'm not Rambo, okay? Just with a fly swatter at a safe distance with every intention of screaming and running away should anything abnormal occur. Like if the spider started growing or if he decided to go all kamikaze on me and dive-bomb my face).

Anyways, please don't think I'm a horrible human being. I promise I am not usually a hard-hearted killer of living things. And I said a little prayer for each bug's tiny bug soul (that's a lie). But we can't let the bugs win, can w?! I think not.

In other news: I found a baby on the beach for you!!!

{courtesy of TripAdvisor}

Okay, the baby wasn't actually a sloth. But I didn't get a picture of my beach-baby, so I went to find one that resembled that baby on the Google. And this is what it gave me. I love me some three-toed sloths. (I really do, ya know? I used to stick my quarters in all the "Save the Three-toed Sloth" collection boxes at the zoo.)

But I digress.

Back to the real beach baby: Clint and I went to Galveston on Memorial Day morning. It was lovely. Sun a-blazin', all lotioned up, big beach bag full of all the essentials, warm water... perfect. And along came this little family of cuteness. The dad was tall and black and very friendly. The mom was white and full of spunk. And their baby. OH! Their baby was the cutest little thing you ever did see. Chunky little legs, skin like a chocolate creamsicle right out of the freezer, big eyes with long lashes, and the curliest little mop of gorgeous black hair you ever did see. But the most impressive thing about this angel-baby was that those chunky legs could RUN!

I am not even kidding. That girl could get places. 

If she had been going any faster, that baby woulda been flying. Seriously.


The first time we saw her sprint down the beach after her mom, Clint and I just sat there dazed and amazed. Then Clint said something like "Dang," and I was like "Yeah." 

Then she did it again. And again. And again.


You'd think it would get old after a while, but ya know what... it really didn't.

What did you do for Memorial Day?

Happy Wednesday-- which feels like a Tuesday but is so much better than a Tuesday because it's one day closer to FRIDAY! 

***Addition: Last night we got home very late and quickly stumbled (well I stumbled because I had fallen asleep in the car and refused to let Clint carry me up the stairs; Clint walked---dignified as always) into the house to escape the moth hovering around our door. Apparently our efforts weren't quite enough. This morning (pardon my next bit of crassness) as I departed from the toilet, a large moth flew out from under the rim of the toilet bowl. And can I just say---AHHH! Gross. Gross. Gross. I spent the next few minutes waiting for that spastic moth to calm the heck down. The next few minutes were spent fishing the fly swatter from behind the washing machine. Then I had to find that moth AGAIN, because it apparently had had too much coffee to drink for breakfast and just could NOT sit still. Once I found it (in the recesses of Clint's towel while drying my hands!), I stalked my evil prey for another few minutes, cornered it in the medicine cabinet, then again in the shower--- where it was promptly smashed.

5 minutes later.

I hear some rustling from the trash can where I had disposed of the demon moth corpse. Lo and behold, there's that pesky dude climbing up the trash bag like vampire from it's tomb (because vampires are kinda in right now, right?). So I speedy-quick grabbed up my sword of plastic mesh and whacked the whole trash bag down, down, down. Then- being the feisty blonde that I am and really needing the remaining 5 minutes before leaving for work to be uninterrupted by bugs- I tied that bag up. The moth monster was howling at the bottom of the bag, but I wasn't taking any more of his crap, ya know? I tossed that bag outside.

And THAT, my friends, is the reason why I will be buying my lunch today and have no eyeliner on.

Thank you.