Journey Beyond Survival

"Don't step on it!" Beansprout yelled.  I just about peed my pants, but obliged. Beansprout has become the Keeper of the Catepillars. When I was out gardening in my beautiful flower bed, he just about drove me crazy. Punctuated with the occasional, "LOOK OUT" my afternoon was peaceful, getting in my last annuals and stepping back to survey the fabulousness every so often. I even learned to capitalize on his exuberance.  "Yo Beansprout!" I point my spade, "Your friend there is eating my plants!  You better get him off my plants!" the lovely little boy would oblige!  Worked every single time.  He never got tired of it, and I should know because I tried it a lot of times. He was vigilant in taking care of those plants catepillars. Why am I telling you this?  I should post this on my personal blog right?  Of course.  But the reason I bring that up is this:  he was vigilant!  He attempted the impossible. You know and I know...

I've been thinking things through. I don't know if I'm going in the right direction! Twenty odd pounds, twenty miles in a week. Is it really worth it? This is getting expensive I need new pants the kool kids buy organic food My shoes are wearing out after 3 months This takes too much time I never used to think so hard While a creative outlet, blogging uses up all of my extra TV and FB time Exercise makes me feel high I think that's against my religion This is hard I don't like getting up early I miss sugar I'm dreaming of cinnamon rolls baked by cupcakes I don't think this obsession can be healthy Hubbend is planning an intervention My powdered sugar and butter are lonely Beansprout needs fatty nourishment I think I might be going the wrong way. Or facing the wrong direction? I really DON'T know what to do! *photo by ninpou_kobanashi* Jack Sh*t gave me some inspiration as I was haunting his archives.

Written in advance, since I'm traveling 3.5 hours, checking in, and helping plaster Chickadee with glue and electrodes. Beansprout is going to be five in a month. Lately the constant refrain of my existence is "Pull up your pants!" Hubbend and I have begun an extensive evaluation of the problem. We do not want to have a juvenile delinquent on our hands. I have tightened his 'adjustable' waistbands until the elastics are straining from the bulge of fabric gathered upon it. His little hips have red marks sometimes from his pants being a little too tight. Given the warning flier above, I would be $250,000 in the hole before lunch. *Not counting the times where I shake my head and roll my eyes* Given that even through all these measures I can still see the plumber's crack, I have concluded that the problem is anatomical. Flatt Butt. Yes. Beansprout has no hips, no bum, and no belly. I swear this whole saggy pants thing was caused by the exact same geneti...