Chopper is menacingly big, with a huge grin and a gargantuan head. But his 100+ pound frame just houses the sweetest spirit.
This is just the tip of the iceberg. It’s a Friday morning, and we’re both at work. But this online conversation has been going on for a good half-hour, at least. My poor laptop has been pinging like crazy.
I know the best cure / For any stress: Exploring / And some clean, fresh air.
The one thing I’ve always appreciated about my family, other than how obnoxiously rowdy we can be when we get together, is the fact that we drop everything and anything to support one another.
Seconds turn to minutes, and minutes to hours — / The hands tick by at an excruciating pace, / To the point when my content mood turns sour.
It’s a challenging feat. Particularly given the fact that some of our favorite activities aren’t conducive for optimal fitness and weight loss.
In honor of Shakespeare and Jon Snow and countless glasses of wine, I present: my sonnet for Day 115.
I always feel a little bit like a fish out of water, as I meander through the crowds of middle-aged yuppies, sipping on their glasses of blood-red zinfandel and sunny chardonnay.
A snarl and a tear / And an almighty rip, then — / Oops! I’m in trouble.
Day after day, week after week, I’ve honed my routine, / To the point where I can create my face in the dark…