Pish-Posh Challenge Week Two

The Pish-Posh 8-Week Challenge:

Week Two

This week I am proud to say that I walked 21.76 miles and burned 2359 calories, which is the equivalent of a whole pizza. Without toppings.

Still, let's see, I lost a total of ... +1 pounds.

I gained a pound.

The Pish-Posh: 8 Week Challenge

Week One:

The Pish-Posh has started another challenge and this time I was awake enough to get in on the ground floor. I want to be posting more, and to lose two pounds per week. That would be excellent.

So far I have had three long walks and lost two pounds. Trying to keep the diet under control. The weekends are always the hardest time. I used to run 5k every day, and if health permits I would love to be doing that again.

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The first time I went to a gym a friend took me. We were 19 or 20, and he was deeply dedicated to becoming a cop. This gym was seedy looking on the outside, but decently outfitted inside. He told me the cops used it in the evenings.

The day we arrived it was early, and no one else was there but us and one woman. She was Asian, seven feet tall, with a huge head of wavy black hair, and in full makeup. She had a couple of volleyballs badly hidden about her person. All of this confused me, and I remember trying to get a look at her feet, because, seven-feet tall?

The Book!

Some time ago The Pish-Posh invited me to contribute to a collection of stories she was going to publish with The Lady in Red. Most of the blogs I love to read were involved. These are all hilarious and wonderfully talented writers (and artists), and I was thrilled to have been included.

The stories are all from our experience, and each one is a gem. I am responsible for two of them.
More on them later.

The book was just published as All Cracked Up, and is currently available here on Amazon for $2.99!

These are the writers:

Dogs on Drugs http://dogsondrugs.com           

Mayor Gia http://www.mayorgia.blogspot.com/ 

Whoa! Susannah http://www.zannahbrown.blogspot.com/

Ken Inatractor http://ken-inatractor.blogspot.com/

Leanne Moffat http://one-odd-duck.com/

Brett Minor http://www.transformednonconformist.blogspot.com/

Rusty Hartup http://www.swinginglikearustygate.blogspot.com/

Working Dan http://www.shamefulpromotions.com/

Six Fingered Monkey http://www.sixfingeredmonkey.com/

Mike Young http://youngmanbrown.com/ 

Incoherent Ramblings of a Moose http://theincoherentramblingsofasingleparent.blogspot.com/

Misty's Laws http://mistyslaws.wordpress.com/

Rev Biou http://simianidiot.tumblr.com/

Creative Devolution http://creativedevolution.com/

Gloria http://www.abozosabbozzo.blogspot.in/

Pish Posh: http://the-pish-posh.com

You can't find better anywhere. 

Baby-Poop: An Advanced Guide

In my loose series of Pre-Parental Advice, imposed without request:
    

Number 2: POO!

I don't get people who spend a few hundred on a dog, knowing that they'll be retrieving its poop off the ground, all warm and sticky, reeking in their plastic-wrapped hand. For twelve years. Before the little creature eats it himself. This I have seen, and it haunts me.
   

What the hell people? At least cats have some shame!

How wonderful are these animals? I've seen other people's dogs, and sure, they seem really nice. But the ones my family got a few years ago were all insane, frenetic little creatures. Giant rodents. They lost battles of wits with craneflies.

The dumbest insects on any planet.

I did not pick up their poo. They were not my dogs.
That would have driven me mad, to commit to that.

I've mucked out a few sheep barns, and among the many unskilled jobs I have held, cleaning hospital rooms was one of the worst. More on that later. I am not afraid of poop, in any way. I have done my time shovelling, wiping, and pitchforking shit for good and all, if there's any way I can get out of it.

But I did clean my son's ass for three years. I was his anal hygienist, and I am proud to say I kept him pretty damned squeaky the whole time. I wanted that outcome more than I wanted to completely avoid the sight, the smell, and the feel of poop. It would have been a fair trade.

But ladies and gentlemen, I tell you, you don't have to make that choice. I had it all.
Finally revealed:

The Ninja Parent's Guide to Poop

First off, this is wrong. 

Recipe Time: Enchiladas Acapulco

Like all my best recipes, I stole this from several sources and fiddled it into shape to my tastes. There are apparently many versions of this under the same name.

I have never been to Acapulco, but this recipe says good things about eating there. 

WARNING: This is off, off, OFF diet. But SO good.

Chicken Enchiladas Acapulco

Serves: 3-6

Picture from a slightly less complicated version, which also looks good.

True Camping Part III: "The Human Smore"

Disclaimer: Camping is actually a fun and relaxing thing to do with your family. It's a cheap and easy way to enjoy the outdoors and get away from your worries.

Unless you're me.

You would think that previous mayhem would have been enough to change my expectations. Perhaps you know me, and can't believe that once, not too many years back, I had the heart, the energy, the sheer gumption to persevere in the face of defeat. That wasn't really me. Normally I fold like a deck chair in a hurricane.

I assure you that whatever it was, it was only temporary; that keen defiance, that impervious drive to make things happen, that denial of danger was a byproduct of late-blooming infatuation. For ten years in the middle of my life I suddenly and completely refused to believe that fate or God or Mother Nature or Buddha had it in for me.

They loved me. Us. I was so happy.

For some people Love is as toxic as crack, and twice as addictive.

This is your brain in Love.

My wife still wanted to spend her vacations camping, and I still wanted to be wherever she was. We went back to camping alone, happy still, in denial. We dealt with a massive fish spawning that ruined the river next to us, and tenting under a screech-owl nest, and a few other things that don't even register with me now.
Not after this:

The second-last trip was to a campground closer to home, and closer to town.

Why so close, when we had always planned remote destinations, surrounded by trees? A recommendation by Chuck and Dick. Before you ask "Whaaaa?" I remind you: we were in our 20's, and I had dumped my natural caution like a Kevlar vest at a love-in. With hindsight most things I did then look equally dumb.

OK. Here we go:

Fort Langley

The name alone causes me full-body sense-memory shock. 

Advice to Pre-Mothers

At least two people I know who vowed never to procreate, or claimed a lifelong aversion to the idea have recently announced that they are expecting. Just when I had come to terms with respecting Unburdened as a Lifestyle, too.

Congratulations on your pregnancy. I'm no expert, having not had one in me, but I've learned a lot from the blood spawn I am raising, and watched closely the tiny lives of several others as they grew.

There is good news and bad:

Ladies, a squalling, snot and poop dispenser is growing in you, with amazing mind-control powers.  

It will change your appetites and direct you when and what to eat. You will grow huge and ungainly, and complete strangers will offer you stupid advice constantly and touch your stomach, where It lies in wait to push Its way out of you one random day and feed.

"Sleep lightly, Old Man."

Parents, when It emerges, It will eat your future and you won't sleep properly or finish a thought for the next ten years. You won't wear clean clothing for the first four.