Fitness and Frittering on a Friday Morn

Good morning, y'all!  I must say that on Day 2 of my plan to arise early and write, I'm as happy as the proverbial clam.  Obviously, that would be the clam yet buried in the salty sand of a sunny beach somewhere on a lovely coast because methinks the mollusk immersed in boiling water or dropped in hot oil is not smiling.

The husband is up and at 'em, too.  He's back at the fitness grind.  Taking it one P90X workout at a time.  Cutting back on those empty calorie food items which tend to return, creeping their way, into the daily diet every time they find themselves deleted from the menu: pop, chips, candies.  That's not MY list, by the way, but his.  Whereas I tend to overeat in general, even healthy foods if its a particularly hormonal or emotional day, he simply leans toward edible crap which wouldn't titillate my palate in the least.  I.E.  soda pop.

I don't 'get' Pepsi or Coke.  Especially diet anything.  What is the point?  Nasty stuff.  Tastes like liquid chemicals with a dose of high fructose corns syrup thrown in.  And though I've heard it'll corrode acid build-up on car batteries or clean the ring right out of the toilet bowl, I'd be quite hesitant to throw even Dr. Pepper (which is what I would pour on a tall glass of ice or ice CREAM if I was of a mind to imbibe because at least it actually has a remnant of flavor) on either of them.  But I digress on this course concerning the nation's unspoken, but totally there, major food group.

There is no doubt in my mind that my man will, indeed, be successful in his weight loss endeavor.  This is the guy who decided to embark upon a new exercise and eating plan the day after Thanksgiving in 2008.  Can you BELIEVE that?  Who DOES that?  Through the entire Christmas season of parties and biscotti and warm plates of homemade egg rolls and cookies from kindly neighbors, not to mention having his mother with her cooking skills on board, Jimmy V. took off pounds and inches.  By the time our 20th anniversary trip to NYC came round, he was looking GOOD.  Perhaps a bit TOO slim, if the truth be told.  Nary does a woman say that she, herself, is TOO thin.  But she'll say it about her husband.  Or another woman.  Again, digressing.

Digress.  Congress.  Fortress.  Songstress.  Just plain old fun to say.  Fun to write.  Words are fun.

Well, my time has frittered away.  My original subject matter, mainly the homeless gentleman who became a literal overnight sensation with his golden radio voice, will have to wait for another day.  He's got my attention and my vote, much like the rest of the nation, but I have grave concerns about his addictions and the role they could play in his ever-expanding promising future.

Before I sign off -- there's a short story contest AND a movie review contest at which I'd like to take a stab -- a quick reminder that THIS SATURDAY, tomorrow, from 8:30am to 10:30am, is the great Polar Bear Plunge of 2011.  Jumping into an outdoor swimming pool of winter-chilled water with a few hundred of your fellow townsfolk is heads and shoulders above any resolution.  If you have access to such an event in YOUR locale, I suggest you join in the frigid merriment.  It stays with you all year.  In a good non-pneumonia sort of way!

And the photo opps are great.  Just be sure to change out of your wet bathing suit as opposed to layering dry clothes over it.  Let's just say blue lips and a challenged core body temp can be problems.