Friday night doesn't often find me in the land of blogosphere. Not that Friday night is often filled with a lot of hooplah. Sidenote: I totally dated myself by using the term "hooplah."

It's been a long week, y'all. Right now, my hands smell like bleach, a heater is set on high with hopes of drying a freshly shampooed carpet and my carcass is kicking back in a cushy chair in the middle of my kitchen. Ladybug the cat is perched behind my hair, intent on chewing on it. Must be some bleach residue on the edges. Chlorine and bleach. She loves them both. Explains the hairball phenom, doesn't it?

Speaking of hairballs - our family has been cat puke free for exactly one week. Oh Petsmart, your name does describe you. Smart. About pets. :)

I seem to be losing my mojo for the effort of blogging. Or maybe it's the bleachy hands, getting to the brain cells. Time to continue my list of gratitude to help "shake the stink off" on this fantabulous Friday night.

132. my new "green tea" candle.
133. cleaning
134. furniture, freshly rearranged
135. continued employment during an economic sag
136. a husband who cooks dinner on a friday night (mine)
137. grieving the death of a friendship.
138. celebrating the presence of healthy friends
139. kickboxing
140. flicker low light
141. the thoughts of donald miller
142. realizing that not everyone is going to "get me" and having that be okay
143. falling asleep to the television
144. the feel of a good book
145. the gift of words on paper
145. the ability to express thoughts through writing
146. gusty winds
147. trickling rain
148. making benvolio videos
149. having laughing fits over my own videos
150. the ability to change the direction of my story

Happy Friday, y'all. Here's hoping the carpet is dry (or dry enough) in the next 45 minuots.

:)

Nope. We haven't seen Billy Blanks. Anywhere.

Does anyone remember Billy Blanks and his tae-bo kickboxing videos? I've done a few of them in my day. Worked up a sweat. Called it good.

See these red boxing gloves? We became aquainted tonight. And Billy Blanks? He was nowhere to be found.

Let me back up to share that I'm continually on a quest to find a Wednesday night workout. Hope is at Awana for two hours and I'm sick of hearing my fingers click on a keyboard at the library during that time. I've given water aerobics a try. It would be okay - if it weren't for all the water.

I located a drop-in kickboxing class just a few blocks from Awana. I coerced my friend Wendy into joining me. "It's kickboxing. You know, like Billy Blanks. Some aerobic moves, some punching and kicking the air. I think it will be good." I think I talked her into a half marathon with me in just about the same fashion.

We knew we were in trouble when the class started hauling in punching bags and hanging them from the ceiling. Followed by a classmate's question: "Did you guys bring boxing gloves?"

All we could do was laugh. Slide our hands into some pretty beat up (and unbelievable sweaty) class gloves. I had to turn off part of my brain to move forward - every germaphobic cell in my brain was firing off.

Ten minutes in, the acrobatic instructor sent us jogging around the mirrored room a few times. I knew I was toast.

Wendy and I made it about 40 minutes. Maybe 45. I can honestly say that I'm not sure I have EVER sweated so profusely. My sweat was sweating. No lie. And almost every part of my body felt like a squiggly mess.

Wendy and I howled when we got back in her car. Oh, to have video of the mess that we were. But you know what? We freaking did it. And you know what else? I'm going shock the shoes off of that instructor and go back next week. Hit the bag a little lighter. Kick a little slower. And jog when I can.

I'm also buying my own gloves. Having said that, I need to wash my hands again.

Freaking Billy Blanks. Yeesh. :)

Monday Gratitude

I awoke this morning with a start. It wasn't the sunshine peeking its head in that woke me, but instead, one puking cat. Oh yes. It was.

Poor Ladybug is getting old and very - "hairbally." She's a short-haired tabby, but you'd never know it after a hairball escapade. There's a telltale urping noise that this feline omits. A half-asleep stupor found me pushing said cat off of the bed before the damage was done. On the comfortor, anyhow.

Too much information for the weak of stomach, I'm sure. Since that's the perfect description of me, 2:36 am finds me at the computer. Man. Alive.

My "gratitude list" has fallen to the wayside. I am deeply ashamed. No big excuses. Life. Busy routine. Lack of blogginess in general. Lame excuses. I know this.

My Dad and sister stopped over on their way to California this weekend. They took a 22-hour train ride to Oakland, CA to visit my Aunt and a portion of "the cousins." My decision not to go came late in the planning game. It was difficult to say "no" for a gaggle of good and true reasons - scheduling, finances, work, babysitters. All true. And good. As the decline made its way into the universe, I believe I heard a large sigh of relief. Birds sang. Trees bloomed. Mice with ribbon began creating the dress for the ball. Seriously.

My sister, Katie is Dad's traveling companion on this adventure. We texted along the first 12 hours of the route. I loved seeing them, laughing and visiting with Katie and being silly at the train station made me question my decision. As the texts came, I felt slighty grieved that I wasn't able to find a way to go. Come day break, I shot her a four-word text: "How was the night?" She replied with one word: LONG.

Instead of the universe, it was me omitting the long sigh of relief. "LONG" in Katie's world translates into "a small piece of personal hell" in mine. There's not a doubt in my mind that 22 hours would have ended with neither my Dad or Katie speaking to me. It would be top any other family tale that speaks to my nerosis. "Four Days on the Rogue River with Kris" would be but a distant memory.

'Nuff said. Onto the list of gratitude, beginning with number 111.

111. My sister, Katie
112. Side-splitting, gag-inducing laughter.
113. Shared history - no matter how painful or ridiculous.
114. My Dad.
115. Listening to the still small voice that directs in difficult circumstances.
116. The continued adventure of growing up.
117. Trusting, even when it seems impossible.
118. Knowing that "it's not you" is really true.
119. Sharing Anne Lammott's writings with someone for the first time.
120. Hearing that someone loves the writings of Anne Lammott.
121. Understanding that not everyone is going to be my friend.
122. Being okay when someone "doesn't get me."
123. Changed perspective.
124. Friends that have history together.
125. Wanting to grow.
126. Not deleting someone from my facebook. Even though they deserve it.
127. Stopping myself from going to said person's facebook every day. Or ever again.
128. Praying for people who have hurt me.
129. Living outside wants and desires.
130. Cleaning up cat puke at 2:30 am from our aging cat.
131. Knowing that the weekend wasn't complete because one person was missing.
131. Both of my sisters.

Here's to a monday of gratitude. And aiming to lay my head back down at 3 am for a few more hours of rest. Be blessed. :) k