Push-Ups: Before I Lay Me Down To Sleep

I should be in bed. In bed and sleeping. As opposed to in bed and playing one of fourteen Words With Friends games or reading one of the many books perched atop my headboard. But having just tucked in 24 blueberry mini-muffins and 12 full-sized of the same, I felt the need to tuck in my blog. Then we can all sleep -- as my fine examples model below.

Though Pastor Rodney MORE than delivers the sermon each Sunday,
he also appears to have a soporific effect on my son.

Father and son more than enjoy sleeping in.

Leave it to a cat . . .

Hank's preferred living room nap spot -- when we invite him.

Ashley's preferred napping spot -- when HANK invites her!

Yet another favorite spot and another varied position.
(In case you'd forgotten, his name is Hank.)

Panda sleeps so hard that we all feel the need to check for the telltale rise and fall of her
ribcage to ensure she is, indeed, yet with us on the Earth!

The day started out with me still wide awake after midnight, working on a short story. My headache had finally let up after several hours of stillness on the couch with my husband, our iPhones, my daughter and her DVD set of the "Friends" sitcom series, and several oral medications that I had downed before surrendering to the stillness. My head finally hit the pillow around 2:30'ish; my head lifted from the pillow for the day when Hank called out to me at 6:45. His bladder had requested that he do so.

As part of a fundraising opportunity for my son's wrestling team, me and the boy and his father joined other parents and their boys in collecting trash left behind in the bleachers, lawn areas and parking lots of the high school after Friday night's varsity football game. Besides wanting to do my part and expecting my athlete to do likewise, I'm also the vice-president of the wrestling booster club per a request from the coach at the end of last school year. Yes. I realize this comes as quite a shock to those of you who know how very NON-organized-sports knowledgeable I am. But I think the coach felt that my interpersonal skills and knack for diplomacy might be useful in some capacity. And how could I say NO to a man who showed up for teaching and coaching last season while simultaneously comforting and supporting his sick wife who spent a significant amount of the school year in the hospital!

An organized litter pile.

Good form!

Discarded chewing tobacco: GROSS!

Did I mention how GROSS tossed-out chaw is?!

Now, if you've ever witnessed even a single wrestling match (if that is the correct terminology -- you see there! I don't know!) you can attest as to the swiftness of foot, hand, and every other body part, that these fit kids display. It's rather amazing to me. It reminds me of a National Geographic special I once watched where a large snake of the constricting variety was wrapped and writhing around it's prey, twisting and turning in a seamless series of moves too quick for my eyes to discern. In other words, these boys can MOVE. They are in great shape. They run. They jump. They lift weights as a class in school. They practice in the off-season at home with one another to keep their skills swift and well-oiled.

But take this group of boys to an early-morning session of trash-grabbing and set 'em loose . . . suddenly their feet are made of lead. I've never seen them move more slowly than they do with a black plastic bag in one hand and a vast expanse of candy wrappers and Coke bottles spread out before them. Their eyes glaze over. When they do begin to actually collect the incredible amounts of human debris left by what can only be described as animals (I thought we were a civilized society with a widely recognized system of discarding waste), it appears that their knees and elbows have rusted, that their spines have been fused together. And if I follow behind them with my own bag, that same bag will be half-full with the sundry obvious pieces of garbage the wrestling brigade missed. In fact, my husband found a $20 bill last Saturday during his own collection reconnaissance behind the boys. (Is it okay that we didn't donate that money to the club, but instead my man treated me to Starbucks?)

I had to look twice, thinking the frontman was wearing one of his medals!
These kids love to drive the 'mule!'

Would it be too 'trashy' to ask this cute guy to come home with me?

We had a bag malfunction at one point . . .

They sense an end to this 2-hour trash-fest!!!

Dirty hands: I bring disposable gloves but they opt out. Why?!!!
We ARE handling unfamiliar waste, after all.

Slow and steady . . .

Fill 'er up, boys!

That's the face of a boy who knows he's about to get
his biscuits and gravy for breakfast!

My son read my mind and dislodged my month-long hankering for blueberry pancakes at "Cracker Barrel" -- thus convincing us that a breakfast celebration should be had by all. I downed all three crispy pancakes, drenched in blueberry syrup, and suffered bloat for many rough hours afterward. But they were as tasty as I remembered! I also managed to destroy my son in a game of checkers while we waited for our table. The only dark spot was the empty space where our college girl should have been sitting and enjoying her own overkill All-American breakfast with mom, dad, brother and sister. Instead, she spent hours engaged in a deep study of Federalism, hoping to comprehend the subject for her big (I've heard the outline and believe it to be TOO big) political science test on Tuesday next.

Upon our return trip home, we chose to tackle the overgrown jungle which frames the sidewalk leading up to our front door. Kudos to my man for his splendid skills with the electric trimmer! And he didn't cut the cord. (What? Who HASN'T accidentally sliced a couple of 100-foot cords in half while laboring under the hot sun with a heavy electric tool in hand?!) I'm happy to report that all bushes and trees have been reduced to an attractive profile. I managed to multi-task by calling my brother, Gary, and chatting while clipping and cutting and bagging. It looks pretty darned good.

After that, there was the nap to sleep off the effects of the diphenhydramine I popped to counter my allergies. A necessary shower to make me presentable again. A quick cold dinner with Jimmy consisting of a quite flavorful whole-grain pasta salad -- replete with veggies and green olives, oh! and fresh Italian parsley. I enjoyed a pleasant 2-hour visit over wine with one of my neighbor gal pals. You know about the muffin-baking session. Those are for church, by the way. My Sunday to bring fellowship food. Churches, especially BAPTIST churches, have that whole 'loaves and fishes' thing down pat! Ya gotta be oh! so careful as those extra pounds can creep on before you know it.