Well, it’s Spring Break in these parts, and we’re staycationing this year…again. Spring Break travel requires much more advanced planning than I am ever able to successfully do, so here we are.
Home sweet…holy shit, is there a wasps’ nest in our new screened porch? Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose of having a screened porch? Awesome.
But we’ve already made it halfway through the week without major incident, which is pretty good for us.
Perhaps you’ll recall the Spring Break three years ago when my dog Ike was brutally assaulted in our front yard by a courier carrying a concealed weapon and then spent 10 days in the hole for defending himself and his family? Don’t worry, we had his record expunged (the dog, not the psycho courier).
Or last year when I snapped and made my children do a prison-crew-style roadside trash detail. Ah, memories.
But this year so far, knock on wood, has been pretty fun and uneventful.
My husband, aka The Gatekeeper, with his ginormous prefrontal cortex, made us all do some goal planning for the week. I don’t know if I’ve ever told you this before, but he makes us do this every time we are out of our routine, like summer and holidays. I used to hate it—I’m too impulsive and “creative” to think like that. But I’m starting to see the value in setting goals and thinking ahead for more than just What’s my next meal and what’s on TV tonight?
One of my goals for this week is to exercise five times. That’s a tall order for a slug like me.
Luckily, The Gatekeeper bought and set up a new volleyball and badminton net last weekend.
Oh yes, we’re that family now.
And guys? I have to admit…it’s pretty fun.
First of all, learning new things is really good for you.
Secondly, chasing balls and shuttlecocks all over your yard with a racquet is great cardio vascular exercise.
Thirdly, making inappropriate jokes about balls and shuttlecocks leads to uncontrollable belly laughs which stimulates your brain AND your core.
Hey, whoever named it a shuttlecock totally had it coming. I mean really. I can’t help it. I just can’t. Plus, if you have two of them? Come on. They totally look like super pointy boobs, right?
Listen, this is actually a step up for me. I’ve been calling it “bad mitten” for 44 years. I had no idea it was actually badminton. Then again, it was only last year I learned that February has two Rs. (Sweet Jesus, I’m turning into my mother.)
Anyhooo, alls I’m sayin’ is, I play badminton now. I’m a badminton player. Okay, fine, I have yet to participate in one full successful rally back and forth over the net, but by gum, I’m going to get there. They’re called goals, m’kay.
Also, apparently my knees look like “there are two babies being held hostage under my skin,” according to my ever-complimentary children. (Yes, Mom, I know…the chickens have come home to roost.) So, I’ve got that going for me.
I’ll have you know, distracting my opponents with my Knee Babies is an excellent strategy. I might have to branch out and apply this technique elsewhere in my life.
Consider yourself warned.
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