We're All Athletes, Indeed

Ah, Bill flick.  Remember the last time I shared something from him?  He's once again stolen the words right out of my mouth! 

Finally, a 'sport' he can even handle - walking!

As part of that community-wide Bloomington-Normal Employee Wellness Challenge, I am tromping around these days with a little gadget attached to my belt that is counting the number of steps I take.
I average about 8,300 steps a day, according to the little gizmo.

Not to brag here but I walk pretty well.

Not to brag even more here but I have for quite a long time.

As a child, due to genetics and gross underdevelopment of my Michael Jordan Superstar Gland, I was never what you would call an athletic standout.

I was too short at basketball.

I was too small for football.

I wasn’t quick enough to get around on a fastball in baseball.

I didn’t have the endurance for long-distance running.

I didn’t play soccer because in the ‘60s, no one did, as America had yet to discover that special game that requires only a few basic skills, a ball, an open field and 12,000 parents with minivans.

That’s why this new-fangled walking thing, and things like these wellness challenges that feature walking, delight me.

Walking? Newsweek recently even called it a “sport” now and I am very proud.

Every morning — first thing out of bed, in fact — I often walk, usually straight into the bathroom.

Then throughout the day, I walk a lot, too, most of the time to get from one place to the other.

Therein, of course, is the real beauty to walking.

It is very easy to do, with simple-to-follow instructions.

(Step 1) Take one step.

(Step 2) Take second step.

(Step 3) Repeat, as necessary.

And that’s all there is to it.

Its elevation to “sport”? Is it not something that, given the times, we probably could have envisioned as well?

Have you noticed what has happened to water?

It used to just flow out of the tap of your home. When frozen, it was called ice. If you asked someone for a glass of water, they would usually give it to you.

But now?

Now people pay up to $2 for a bottle of water.

There’s coffee, too, of course.

It used to be just that — coffee.

But now it’s flavored, frothed, frapped and sold at slightly less than the cost of a second mortgage.

There’s worn-out blue jeans, too.

Used to be, when you would see someone with hole-pocked jeans, a tear might well in your eye out of deep sadness and despair for them
.
Today?

Now you ask where they got that $85 pair of great-looking, completely faded, hole-mired, completely frazzled jeans.

Yup, the same goes for walking.

What all of us learned to do back when we were about 13 months old now is a humongous “pastime.”

Now there are special shoes for walkers.

At the mall, they have a walking club.

Just the other day at Barnes & Noble, I spotted an entire book on walking and it had “valuable walking tips,” like on how to begin walking (”start slowly”) and how to warm up beforehand so that you don’t injure yourself (remember when walking WAS the warm-up to exercise?) and that during winter, a wise investment for us real good walkers is to invest in our own treadmills for only $1,000 so that we can successfully walk without having to go through the actual drudgery of going anywhere anymore.

Which reminds me …

Not to brag yet again, but I am very talented at going nowhere fast, too.

I wonder if I can get a special little gadget to measure that, too?

The Ups and Downs of Swinging

Monkey has a love/hate relationship with swinging.  Let's take a look.

We start with complete trepidation and fear... 

Move on to, "Well this isn't so bad, but I'm still not sure I enjoy it."

And finally, "Ooooh, this is fun!"

The cycle repeats itself and another good push sends her back into terror.

We're working on these things.

Betty Who?

Do you have a favorite cookbook?  This one here, well let's just say it's pretty great.  I, unfortunately, am not the owner of it and have to either call my mom to get recipes out of it, or photocopy them when I'm at her house. 

It's not written by a famous tv chef, restaurant owner, or even a stay-at-home ranch wife.  It's by a bunch of local women and was put together in 1980.  The very year I was born!  That's right, it's 30 years old and still one of my mom's favorite cookbooks.  

There are so many great recipes in it.  From the so-simple-a-child-could-do-it, to the fancy schmancy takes-all-day-to-prepare variety.  In fact, this is where the lime pickle recipe from earlier this week hails from. 

I'm a sucker for new recipes, as you may have noticed. But these old gems can rarely be beat.  So tell me, do you have a cookbook that you fall back on when in need of a good recipe?

Wordless Wednesday

Next weekend my sister-in-law, Mandy, will be getting married!  We are really looking forward to spending some time with the family and having a few (hopefully) relaxing days away from work. 

Here are two of my favorite pictures from their engagement session.  Jerry Dellinger did an amazing job. 

Look at how happy she is!

For more Wordless Wednesday, click here.

Proud to be an Appleseeder

Well I did it.  I completed my very first Appleseed Shoot!  I'm a little bit sore from it, but I learned a great deal and had fun so it was well worth it. 

While I didn't shoot 'Rifleman' (maybe next time), there were five people that did.  Three of them being my brother, sister, and husband; hubby even did it both days.  My family rocked it!

In order to obtain a Rifleman status you have to shoot a minimum score of 210 (perfect being 250).  This score will place shooters in the top 5% in the country in terms of accuracy.  In true Appleseed fashion, if a shooter scores 210 on the dot, they are thrown into the nearest body of water.  The creek we were by wasn't very deep so instead they opted to douse them in water from water bottles.  I believe there were four people that shot 210.  It was a pretty hot day, kind of wish I was one of them!

People came from all over the state (and beyond) to join us and there was a great turnout.  Check out the firing line.

Brandy and I were harrassed by some of the instructors because we like to shoot barefoot.  They called it "brave" because hot brass hurts when it touches bare skin.  We called it "tough"... or maybe it was because we find sweaty feet to be distracting.  Whichever it was, it worked for us!

Lime Pickles

Way back in January I made a promise.  I am a keeper of promises.

This one though, I kind of forgot about 'til recently.  I was over at my parents' helping snap green beans and canning pickles, when it struck me; I promised to share a lime pickle recipe with my lovely blog readers before the summer and I hadn't done it yet!  Never fear, it's not too late for you to enjoy some delectable lime pickles in your chili, on ham and cheese sandwiches, in chicken salad, or even all by themselves!  I will give you a forewarning that it does take a while to make them, but it is well worth the effort.  You won't be sorry!

What You'll Need:

• 7 lbs. cucumbers (Sliced)
• 1 cup MRS. WAGES Pickling Lime
• 2 gallons water
• 8 cups distilled white vinegar, 5% acidity
• 8 cups sugar
• 1 tablespoon salt (optional)
• 2 teaspoons MRS. WAGES Mixed Pickling Spices

What You Do:

Soak clean cucumbers in water and lime mixture in crockery for 2 hours or overnight. Do not use aluminum ware.

Remove sliced cucumbers from lime water. Discard lime water. Rinse 3 times in fresh cold water. Soak 3 hours in fresh cold water.

Combine vinegar, sugar, salt and mixed pickling spices in a large pot. Bring to a low boil, stirring until sugar dissolves. Remove syrup from heat and add sliced cucumbers. Soak 5-6 hours or overnight.

Boil slices in the syrup 35 minutes. Fill sterilized jars with hot slices. Pour hot syrup over the slices, leaving 1/2 inch headspace. Cap each jar when filled.

Process pints for 10 minutes, quarts for 15 minutes, in a boiling water bath canner.

Test jars for airtight seals according to manufacturer’s instructions.

Store jars in a cool, dry place. Refigerate after opening.

I Want to Bop With You Baby

Oh dear.  We may have a little rocker child on our hands. 

In 15 years, Monkey very well might be one of those teenageers you see driving down the road with the radio blaring and bouncing around in her seat like there are ants in her pants.



Help me Rhonda.