that's 25.2 miles - good enough

the handsome man, like many other (wonderful, dear, lovely) men i've heard about, is known to do things aaaalmost all the way. like the room we finished off in the old house...except for the baseboards (i finally got them as a belated mother's day pressie). like the way he used to faithfully sweep his apartment kitchen...then leave the little pile o' dirt and cat hair sitting in the corner. and like the way he, again this morning, emptied and reloaded the dishwasher (thanks, honey!)...but left the clean pots, pans and bowls sitting on the counter and stove for the cuisine elf to put away. why? why?

unrelated note:  as an addendum to the homemade political lawn signs appreciation, here's the best one i saw today:

undead for obama

now there's a constituency i would have thought for sure the republicans have locked up.

when you care enough to hammer the very best into your grass

as we near the end of campaign season, the bumper lawn sign crop in minneapolis continues to proliferate. my favorites are the homemade ones, like this sampling seen on today's trip to swimming lessons:

pro-woman, anti-palin

no war

no empire

no occupation

avoid trauma, vote obama

and the one that best sums up my feelings:

ENOUGH!

another sure sign of aging

i have more will to stay on the treadmill if i'm listening to npr podcasts than to bouncy music.

all together now:  geeeeeek.

the hills are alive with the sound of child protective services

thing two has joined thing one in her obsession with the sound of music. not only do they sing along, they also randomly spout lines of dialogue – in the kitchen, at the grocery store, on the playground. which would probably be a lot cuter if thing two hadn't chosen this line to deliver with great verve:

"soaking myself in champagne!"

over and over and over.

things my children have argued about recently

• who gets the measuring cup with the rubber base when we make cocoa and who gets the plain measuring cup (note:  these are only the prep cups, not the ones they actually drink from)
  
• which color of jell-o we will make after the next time we make jell-o
  
• the correct way to wear underpants on one's head
  

the back page is always the best page

remember the glamour magazine dos and don'ts? of course you do. (unless maybe you're over 70. or a guy.) flipping immediately to the back page was always the most fun part of getting the 'zine – it was such sweet relief to see other females who had made worse fashion faux pas than oneself.

i was reminded of the dos and don'ts when i walked around the lake this morning, so let's bring on the snark:

do

• get out and enjoy the stellar fall weather. bring the kids, bring the pets, or saddle up on your old schwinn like the becardiganed gentleman who looked to be about 100 (good on you, sir).

don't

• jog in a t-shirt with "just do it" emblazoned across your chest if said chest is huge, extra springy, and threatening both you and random passersby with a potential black eye.
• push your pooch around in a stroller. repeat after me:  it's a dog. and if it's too tiny and trembly to make it around the lake on its little toothpick legs, leave it at home. or kill it.
  
• wear your lifetime fitness personal trainer/aerobics instructor work outfit to walk around the lake. you're fit. we get it. now fuck off.
  
• wear spandex pants so low-slung that i can see your hip bones and possibly a pube or two. i don't care how fine you are (and yes, pink-shirt girl, you are fiiiiine), those pants look good on precisely no one. No. One.