The sock-it-to-me humidity that smacks me in the face these days when I open the door to step out for the morning paper brings the heat of July to mind. Those were the weeks when we were juggling the fun of Camp Grandad and the work of keeping the beach-house-not-on-the-beach ready for showing, plus treks to the doctor to figure out why my heart was threatening to mutiny.
We kept Granddog Ivy during Camp Grandad, so whenever there was a showing, we’d hide the dog bowls and beds, mop the dog drool from the sunroom floor, spray the de-doggy spritzer, and head for the dog park. Ivy loved the park and could hardly wait to start running. Miss Piggy detested it.
It’s easy to see why. Even at 16, she’s still got it.
Not that she wants it.
Eventually she dug a hole under a bench and parked her butt in it. We realized that she was so miserable that she’d prefer to stay in the car. After that, we parked in a shady spot, left the back door of the station wagon up, and she’d contentedly chew her bone, trying to polish it off so that she could start on Ivy’s while she was romping..
The dog park used to be all grass, but it’s just around the fringes now and the dogs run in the sandy soil.
Can she look any more ticked off?!?!
Ivy, on the other hand, loved making new friends.
These young moms were at the park every morning. First they would gather for sit-ups and floor exercises, lying in the grass under the tall pines (not in the dog park!) then they would circle the park, taking the tougher, uphill route.
They deserve merit badges: Size 2 tags in some new jeans. Go, Little Mamas!
The only size 2 items in our house are some lead pencils.
You have to stay in shape. My grandmother, she started walking five miles a day when she was 60. She’s 97 today and we don’t know where the hell she is. ~ Ellen DeGeneres
I don’t exercise. If God had wanted me to bend over, he would have put diamonds on the floor. - Joan Rivers