It's confession time. I am a certified member of the couch potato society. I put the "couch" in couch potato. My body's natural state is at rest in front of a book, a movie, or the computer. If my body were as active as my mind is, I would probably weigh about 50 pounds. Let's just say I weigh more than that.
Let's just say I was born in the wrong era--I could easily have qualified as Peter Paul Rubens' star model.
"Venus at the Mirror" cropped for modesty's sake
Except I would have had a little trouble posing so scantily clad. And my hair used to be dark brown before it turned, ahem, "naturally frosted."
This is where Principessa comes in. Not only does she love art, but she's also fitness conscious. She encouraged me to get a pedometer and use it. (Principessa knows how to appeal to my genetic propensity toward gadgetry.) We have a friendly competition for the most steps in a day, every day.
But somewhere between the civilized streets and rivers of San Antonio
and the wilds of Washington County,
I misplaced my nifty gadget. I hope to find it when I unpack at home, but in the meantime I have no admissable evidence of my exercise. I could take a picture of the soaked bandana I wear(this one's dry, it's my "for show not for blow" bandana)
--a la Willie Nelson Rambo--everytime I walk in the evenings, but that would be gross and doesn't count. It does keep the run off from my head out of my eyes so I can determine if I am close to stepping on a snake as I rambo, I mean ramble.
I do dislike snakes. Principessa doesn't care for them much, either. And I make a pledge to you right now that because of my herpephobia(is that a word?) I will never knowingly post a picture of any of those slithery creatures on this blog.
So help me, Saint Patrick.
Now where was I? Oh yes, bandana. That bandana comes in even more handy here in Texas than in the summer heat of the Frozen North. Of course, the summer heat of the FN isn't even on the same scale as heat down here in Texas. In Texas, heat assumes Biblical proportions. In the Frozen North, heat assumes Rhode Island proportions.
Oh, by the way, did I tell you it's hot down here? How hot is it? It's so hot we had to install a quick and dirty soaker system to keep the liveoaks in the yard from drying up and keeling over stone dead. I saw a little lizard scurry toward one of the tiny emitter thingies and drink long and deep from his own little water fountain.
It's so hot and dry down here even the lizards are parched.
But in the name of fairness to all of Texas, I will admit that there are places where the lawns are green and well watered, the streets are paved, the houses are suburban, and the shopping choices are endless (as opposed to where we are in the wilds of Washington County and the choices are Walmart or the Dollar stores.)
iPodite, my baby sister who lives in one of those humongous urban metropolitan areas, took objection to my portraying all of Texas as wild and wooly. Yes, there are pockets of New York City style civilization, and Babylonian style hanging gardens, but at its heart, Texas is wild.
At least that's my story, and I'm sticking to it!