Tug

The furry nutless barfbag passed away this morning.

He was 13.

Silly how upset I am... over a cat.

I found him when he was 5 weeks old. He could fit in the palm of my hand. He was abandoned & had wedged himself up under the siding of an electrical box at an apartment building. I made the artist get a crow bar and rip off the siding of the building to get to him.

He slept with me every night.
He was my morning alarm clock.
He would be waiting at the door for me every time I came home.

A complete momma's boy.

My...momma's boy.

daily doubles

After two weeks of off time....I jumped back into the fray with both feet this week. Almost 11,000 yards in the pool, couple hours of power vinyasa yoga and about 6 miles on the ski.

I go through ups & downs with workouts. The usual burnout. But when work gets in the way and I can't get in the pool or to a yoga class for a couple weeks....and I'm too tired in the evening to jump on the ski........I get irritable, crabby, bitchy. You name it. I actually start to feel physically sick.

Workout withdrawal.

Blame my parents. More specifically...blame my father.

From the time I first started swimming competitively....age 5.....til now....almost 40....I've always had at least two sports/activities/workouts a day going. Early morning workouts. Afternoon workouts. Evening workouts. Coach Ron had the where-with-all to channel my overactive imagination & energy into a lifelong pursuit of positive output. He created.....a fitness fanatic.

Thank you Papa.

boys at play

For the first time in 16 years....I didn't work the Sunday before April 15th.
Instead...I surfed.
(and took a few pics)

the sheriff

the cuteboy

handball

The V-man has been going to handball clinics for almost a year now.
Not much out there that can teach a seven-year-old better hand-eye coordination than trying to slap around a tiny ball with the palm of your hand.
His great uncle....a great influence.