I asked you guys who was in on my anonymous guest posting, and I am happy to have several people interested! One problem-I didn't ask for your email addresses! So! If you want to do an anonymous post, please email me at dlwinkler(at)msn(dot)com and I will get it all organized.
I'm thinking maybe you should just email me the post you want to use, and I'll email it to someone else in our little group, and let you know whose blog your post will show up on. Is this too complicated? Then, when I email you a post to put on your own blog, just let me know when you plan on posting it, so I can let the author know. Whew. I haven't even done it yet, and I'm already tired! But: Squeeeeee!!
I finished boot camp! Woohooo! It was a great last workout, except for the fact that my shingles are out of control and I itched until I bled the whole hour. For those of you who want to yell at me, YES, for the love of all that is holy, I am going to the doctor next week. I just can't take it anymore. I was tempted to post pictures, but I figured that was too much info., or I might scare a few of you away. It's pretty nasty. In fact, my hubby would agree! Only my sweet girl isn't disgusted-this morning she said, out of nowhere, "Mommy, you're so pretty". How sweet is that???
Don't have numbers to post yet on the results from my boot camp. Should have them by the end of the weekend though, and I will be happy to share them. I can tell you this though: I shaved 1:17 off of my mile! Squeeeee!
I've decided to join the next boot camp, which starts on the 18th, so I've got a week to get these shingles the hell outta dodge.
The saga of the scorpion continues at my house. My husband was stung at least twice this morning!!!! ON HIS FACE AND CHEST! He put a shirt on, which was hanging in our closet, and it was IN THE SHIRT! This is how I woke up at 6:45 this morning:
Hubby: "Hey! Hey!"
Hubby: "I just got stung by a scorpion. On my face."
Me: "Whaa? What? What the hell? ARE YOU OKAY? WHERE? WHERE IS IT? OMG."
And then I proceeded to get out of bed with the sheet wrapped around my legs (to keep me from scratching the shingles on my legs in my sleep), almost busted my ass, and tried to make sense of what he had just said to me. I walked into the bathroom, where he was trying to scope out his shirt laying on the floor. He beat the hell out of it with a fly swatter (Thank you for that invention!), flushed it, and then proceeded to get on the Internet to see if we should be concerned. Ha. Us? Concerned?
Apparently he is okay, because it's about 10:15pm, and he's still alive. And his face is normal-looking. And his chest is fine. And he's breathing. And being his usual shit self. But me? I am a bit frantic. I've been turning every light on in every little area of the house today, scanning the floor before I walk, and avoiding my closet. I shook out every blanket and checked my girl's bed at bedtime tonight. And I've taken itchy to a whole 'nother level. Ack.