vacation

If any of you, out there in the magical, mythical, world called the “internet,” are married to men who do not sweat? Then count your blessings.

My wife is not married to such a man. In fact, if you saw me right now, sitting in my air conditioned office, with the ceiling fan going, you would not believe that I had a shower this morning. Less than a couple hours ago, in fact.

I know. Eeww.

I’m wearing my “50,000, Woot” shirt from the mommy blog, which I won back in the first week or two I was blogging (blogspot days, if any of you are old enough to remember). And Mindy? I’m not sure it’s still white, after a couple of years. Sorry bout that. Did I mention I sweat?

I ran five miles this morning, my longest run in about three weeks. The summer doldrums have grabbed my exercise routine and stuffed creme-filled donuts down it’s throat. The numbers are depressing (don’t even ask why I’ve gained seven pounds since this time last year, it has nothing to do with the donuts, I’m sure).

This is the last day of my vacation, the kids are arguing over how Sly Cooper will best beat the bad guys (and get the treasure) and I have at least four lists of things to do today. First stop: grocery store. Oh wait, the kids are squabbling about the last item on Sly’s hunt. “There’s just one more left!” “No, you need thirty!” “But I have twenty nine, and one more makes… thirty!” “Ohhhh.”

My niece is starting college next week. I think I mentioned that. Have I mentioned that I used to babysit her, back when she was born? Yeah, I was married then. In other words, I’m more than old enough to be her dad (which is ok, since her dad is like one year older than I am). It’s cool, seeing them grow up, but damn do I feel old all of a sudden. She’ll do great, naturally, better than I did by far.

It’s time for me to get my ass to the grocery store. And then there is laundry, dishes, floors and toilets calling my name. And work keeps calling.

No sweat.