Marching Onward

Picking up mulch at the mulch yard gave me a good reason to wear my brand new boots all day. If you are wondering why all my shoes are new then you haven't heard the story of The Great Shoe Disaster of 2007.

My Husband purchased us a new house and then promptly left to go overseas leaving me to move all my belongings to the new house. My vehicle was a bouncy old pickup truck. Being unfamiliar with the ways of packing a pick up truck in the ways of the Beverly Hillbillies I inevitably goofed up in not tying everything down. So as I was happily bumbling down the road towards my new house when other drivers started passing me and trying to get my attention. They were mouthing "YOUR HOOSE" to me. When I finally realized that something might be awry with my packing job I pulled over to check the back of my truck. It took me a second but then I realized I had a gaping hole where a large box once was. Possibly the most essential and beloved box of all the dumb boxes that were making the trek that day. The box with all my beloved shoes. So I made a B-line back to the spot where they might have jumped out. Traffic was moving very slow when I approached the spot I had recently passed. To my horror the police and the Highway Safety Patrol were quickly sweeping dozens of my badly marred shoes off the highway and into trash bags. With cones and flares they were diverting traffic around the spilt shoes. In shock I didn't stop (fortunately no accident was caused) I just drove on towards the new house. I sobbed all the way home calling my husband on the seldom used Emergency Line in a hysteria he had never heard before.

Hubby was not pleased with me that day and he has tried to explain to me that shoe death is not an emergency. With that said he has been supportive in helping me to replace all my shoes. I once had a pair of L.L. Bean boots that hiked through Germany, Switzerland, The Appalachian trail, that I wore when I took my first motorcycle class and that accompanied me on many shady camping trips. I loved those boots. Well, along with several running shoes, strappy high heels, lucite stilettos, and adorable flip flops they were lost never to be seen again. Big Daddy recently purchased these boots (shown in pic) for me and my heart feels almost whole again.

Back to the present so I paid $50 for the same pick-up truck load of mulch that I believe my husband paid $20 for. It's just typical of how men are given a better deal then women. Maybe if I was wearing my lucite stilettos I would have gotten the mulch for free.

Most importantly today I finally fixed a bank error of $1000 that was to our detriment. When I finally got through to the correct person several stress-inducing weeks later she was rudely trying to explain to me that I only deposited a $650 check when I knew it was a $1650 check. When she actually pulled up the check image she just gave an "oh" where I thought I would have gotten an apology. If I hadn't been nosy about my husbands account this would have totally been missed. Let this be a lesson to everyone with a bank account ensure that all your deposits are credited to your account, keep your deposit receipts, and spy on your spouse's money.

So, feeling like I had won the lotto, I went on a Target shopping spree just like Casey Anthony when she realized Caylee was missing. I hit the Clearance Rack and discovered some rock star maternity clothes. Black Skinny Pants with a stretch belly panel, a maternity one shoulder asymmetrical black cotton blouse with a ruffle along the top and ruching on the sides, and a fitted extra long black sweater with snaps down the center. To the chagrin of anyone associated with me I also purchased the Lady Gaga, and NOW That's What I Call Music 29 cds to listen to when I'm running and working out. I've got at least an hour and a half of pop music that would make my husband say "Are you joking me?" I don't care nothing helps me pound the pavement better than Just Dance or My Poker Face.

Then I had the biggest scare of my entire life. At my mother's recommendation I went to see a Chiropractor for the very first time. First he put me on the neck stretching machine in which your forehead is strapped to a table and these two prongs grab the base of your skull and pull. It was like a mid-evil torture device. I probably hurt myself because I was fighting it. Then he takes me to another room with this motorized table that rotates and has 30 knobs and is in like 16 segments and then it laid me flat. He said don't worry you are going to hear some popping noises. Well he twisted my neck and laid into my back in a way that I thought I was having my neck broken so I screamed. Then he did it again and again. Then the other side. Then more popping. I thought I was so close to death and I kept screaming. Anyways, I survived. I can't tell if it did me any good. I probably was the worst patient ever. When I got home I looked up Chiropractors on You Tube. I wish I had done that before I made the appointment. I can't even look at OTHER people having their necks adjusted. It terrifies me. I'm supposed to go back Friday. I don't know. I'm afraid. Do you know if you can get hurt at the Chiropractors?

I did a 26 minute jog today while jamming out to Lady Gaga. No signs of damage to fetus yet. Hopefully it enjoys the Rented Inflatable Uterine Bouncing Party Entertainment.