Tag Archives | being a michigander-burgher-ite

Fruits of Thy Creeping

The past couple of weeks have been a blur of keeping up with B’s last days as a high school senior and his last weeks of club soccer. Somewhere between all that stuff, I’ve been at the gym 3 to 4 times a week, taking care of the springtime needs of the Cul De Sac Shack and getting out for some creeps around the woods, stalking birds and other critters with my camera.

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A Lost Week in Random

I feel like I have had too many “lost weeks” lately. And by that, I mean that I know I’ve done stuff; my house, husband, and dad duties, as well as hitting the gym, photo hikes, and Mindbender visits, but in the end, I don’t feel like I have anything to show for it. 

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Fuzzyness

It’s been a minute and a half since my last post, but there is a very good reason for that; weather, travel, gym time, and soccer dad duties have conspired to keep me out of the woods with my camera, and no one exactly wants to read this shit anyway, let alone read this shit when it has nothing to do with anything even vaguely outdoor-related and only features photos of my kid playing soccer, a bowl of pasta I made for lunch, or my dogs. Unless, of course, I’ve misjudged my ever-dwindling audience and the blog’s SEO stats (I think I have those).

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Friday of Nothing

It’s Friday morning, and I’m writing this to kill some time before going to the gym to lift heavy things for no reason. I am also writing in an attempt to cajole the last shreds of motivation in my mind into doing such an absurd thing. I feel like a sassy $5 hooker talking up my game to any pedestrian walking down my side of the street. And as you might imagine, motivational talk from someone who is blindly confidant yet so clearly undervalues their talents is not great. Of course, I’m also trying to quash the mental snapshot of myself wearing a crop top, booty shorts, pink wig, fishnets, and combat boots as I hustle my side of the cul de sac. “$5, and I’ll show you the time of your life. Where else are you gonna get chlamydia this good? ‘Cmon, baby.” Or something like that.

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The Scent of Slack

On Monday morning, I wrote a post about how much of a slacker I was over the weekend. However, because my slack was so unbelievably strong, there were no photos to accompany the post. So I waited. But I waited so long that I now find the post more irrelevant and even dumber than my usual dross. So it’s been permanently shelved—the Blog Dogs rejoice.

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Days and Days After

Note: this post has been updated. See second footnote. My bad.

I seemed to have, for the most part, recovered from Monday’s “McGregor Strut” injury to my foot and was able to return to the gym on Wednesday.

For some reason, I didn’t have a lot of desire to be in the gym, so I got in, did a casual warm-up on the treadmill, did my quick circuit of weight exercises, and got out. Then I spent the rest of the day doing whatever it is I do. While I’m still not sure what it was I did (or do), I bet I did it very just adequately enough.

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Looking For Do-Overs

Can I get a do-over on last week?

Something about last week was off for me. While nothing horrible happened, and I’m still maintaining a good (enough) mindset, something was off. I think the Michigan spring is getting to me, and I use the term “spring” lightly. The past week was filled with cold temps, high wind, ice storms, heavy rain, and very few fading glimpses of the sun. The week also seemed worse because it was B’s spring break, and while the rest of Michigan seemingly did something in warmer climates, we did nothing. Again. 

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Teeth, Birds, Gas, & Ice

Over the years, it’s been well documented that I am a creature of routines and habits. Some are good, like going to the gym at the same time every morning, and some are bad; we won’t speak of those right now. Still, I dig a good routine, and Tuesday’s gym time was ruined by a dentist appointment I apparently made after a cleaning six months ago and only found out about via a Monday night reminder text from the office. Oh well, it seems my body will have to remain in this sagging and flaccid state one day longer.

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It’s Not You, It’s Me

As I write this, it’s a dark, cold, icy Saturday morning in mid-Michigan, and I can’t make up my mind if I want to go for a photo walk in the icy woods, go to the gym to lumber nowhere fast on the Dreadmill or go back to the Bed of Torment for a second sleep; the world is my mother friggin’ oyster as they say.

Somewhere between morning bowel discharges, too much coffee, and my 3 egg white omelet with veggie sausages, I was made aware via a variety of Instagram posts that today is the Barry-Roubaix gravel race near Grand Rapids.

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