Wine. Laps. More wine.

So today was about 107 humid Virginia degrees.  I was in and out of my car all day.  Hot.  Hot.  Hot.  I had not run or worked out and it's approaching happy hour.  Wine? - Work out?- Wine? - Work out?  Dilemna.  How about both?  Today I tried it and it was superb.  I was grilling burgers for my peeps and my Chardonnay begged me to open her.  Nice, crisp, dry white.  Lovely.  After dinner I took my 2 daughters, my son and a friend to the pool for nice wholesome fun.  I decided it was a perfect chance to kick out a few laps and get a little workout in.  I don't love to swim but I tell you it's a lot better slightly buzzed.  Very slightly.  I don't condone water and alcohol even though Jesus did it but with 5 feet depth at the YMCA to my 5' 7" frame seemed innocent enough.  And so it was.  22 laps without panic.  I tend to panic during swim workouts since I have no form, no training, and no sense of breathing while stroking.  I felt long and lean and so proud of myself for finding the moments between to exercise.  There really is no excuse not to work out.  We are NOT too busy and today I was NOT too sober or too hot to jump right in.  Next time after a real work out my wine/pool combo will look like this:

And I will look like this:

Because, I don't have to be sober to work out.  Do you?
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Because, I'm funny I said something clever.  (Maybe my mojo is coming back)  About 2 people I know, I said to a friend:  "It's really not just one of them, there is 'mutual up-the-buttedness' going on." Reciprocal amounts of ass-kissing.

You know we never really leave middle school.  I am 43 (almost) and still gossiping about how other people behave.  Bad habit.  Trying to break it.  At least I have matured enough not to use names.  Recently, I observed 2 people I know so far up each other's rear-ends, it's a wonder they can see daylight.  I noticed because perhaps I was jealous - I can admit that - jealous that I have no one kissing my ass in my world.  Jealous because if I am in the company of one of these people and the other walks nearby, I become invisible.  What is it that makes us crawl up another's butt?  Were Jennifer Lopez sitting with me I'd be so up hers I'd wallow in her lunch but come on people, I'm human and we all love celebrities.  Why do our associates become so alluring to us that we behave like starstruck middle-schoolers in their presence?  We are all human with the same light inside and the same potential and the same desire to shine.  I vow now not to worry about other's hang ups or obsessions or strange allegiances (when they aren't me, of course).  I will have wine and work out and have more wine and work out more and be the best I can be at whatever I do and at the end of the day get my head out of my own butt so I can offer you love and help and support because that's how I roll. 

I love you and your butt, but I am NOT going up it. 
I love it when I nail it.  What have you nailed lately?  Out.