I'm hoping this doesn't have any adverse side effects.
I swear, weekends always go by too quickly. On Friday, I was jazzed that I'd be webcam-ing with the parents while they babysat Little Man. Then the Sheriff had to go out of town on business, and I was struck down with a headache on Saturday afternoon after navigating a hangover-free morning (we had to show a new-in-town Long Islander the ropes of Downtown Norfolk, thus it was a long and please-pronounce-your-r's night).
My deduced culprit: Our projector.
In case you don't know/live under a rock/have the memory of a goldfish, we have a projector connected to Mr. Wookie's computer to watch all the streaming Netflix can provide (we save so much! by not having cable). But because of this huuuuge image that's plastered on the wall, and our couch being too close for my eyes, sometimes intense scenes can make my brain go haywire. Meet the motion-sick Ging. Insert headache. Take nap. Have nap not work. Have Ging hate life.
We need a real television, I concur.
Saturday was a great day other than that. I hit over 50 degrees.
And I shaved my legs.
Why is shaving a monumental moment? Because I can't remember the last time I took a razor to my legs. When you're blessed with light leg hair, you have the freedom to shave or not to shave in crazy cold winter months. I, being from Oregon and having no issue of a little peach fuzz on the legs, decided to add another layer to the frigid East Coast winter.
You may think it's gross/unattractive/disgusting/unhygienic/Cavewoman-esque, and I'll disagree to all but the last. I envy Cavewomen. They were pioneers. Wall art for blogs. Ingenius, I tell you! But other than that, those who think a little peach fuzz is un-called-for are those who are a slave to the razor because of their Greek/Italian/Middle Eastern/manish genetics. Another point for the Gings. Take that.
So with these rising temperatures, which bring out the 'Hallelujah!' in us all, I'll be baring my pasty white skin for the world to see. Some'll think I'm a Twilight extra. Some will think I'm in dire need of some bronzer/time in the tanning bed/pigment of any sort. But let's talk in 10/15/20 years when skin cancer starts eating away their face. Then they'll think freckles are hot. Until then, my freckles are merely a means of entertainment by connecting the dots.
And to wrap up this post of non-important items. I love how my post-run meals are the garbage can. I inhale everything. I had a half a turkey sandwich after getting home. Then I had Machismo Burrito vegetarian nachos for dinner. And as soon as I hit "Publish Post," I'm going to dig into some sorbet. Raspberry sorbet, for specifics. I just wish we could find a LiveStream of the Oscars before they're over. We caught the Red Carpet, but we're thinking that NBC will have too tight of control of live streaming for us to find it free online. Oh well, I'd care more, but that sorbet is sounding good. Priorities established.
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