Ass like a Cadillac

Things are a bit busy at Chez Roder these days. Some things I can talk about and some I can’t. This year’s focus has been health and Sparky and I are getting healthy. As Sparky is light years ahead of me in the health department, I’m working hard at catching up.

I can tell you that I have been walking 8-9 kilometers a day 5-6 days a week and have gained a kilo.

I can tell you that I have been working out for over two hours a day and have gained a kilo.

I can tell you that I am consuming less than 1000 calories a day and have gained a kilo.

I can tell you that if I wake up tomorrow and the scale says I still have that kilo it says I’ve gained, we will need a new scale.

I can tell you that looking for a picture of a scale to use here, I found only pictures of happy women on scales. I have never known a woman to be particularly happy on a scale. Ever.

I can tell you that I have the world’s slowest metabolism and in a famine I would do pretty well given how uh… efficient my body is at storing energy… on my ass. I have the efficiency of a Prius with the ass of a Cadillac.

I can tell you I’m in kitten withdrawal. I no longer have Cleo to curl up with for an afternoon nap and my nose gets cold. Neither of the other two cats like to snuggle except in the morning when its all about tongue and whiskers to greet the morning light. I am really not a fan of rough tongue in the morning.

I can tell you birds have decided to nest on our back balcony thus annoying the cats and me simultaneously as they hop out of reach and sing their annoying morning song.

I can tell you my tendencies towards hoarding kittens are stifled when I find my roses dug up by the sweet Fin. Why he can’t dig up the ugly geraniums, I don not know. He’s even figured out how to move the pebbles I’ve placed all around the roots. I swear that cat is hiding opposable thumbs somewhere.

I can tell you that I actually enjoy soccer/football a lot more than American football and think it’s a much safer sport, but those pansy-ass players cry at the drop of a hat. If I see one more player cry for his mama because he got tripped and skinned his poor widdle knee… well, I’m just going to make fun of them over and over again.

I can tell you that the Italians are pretty happy in Darmstadt. In fact I think there are more Italians here than Germans. I have never seen Germans storm the streets like the Italians over a win. Then again, these are Germans we’re talking about. Street storming is a repressed genetic ability.

I can tell you my kitchenware has expanded to include the Kitchen-Aid blender I’ve been eyeing for years and had only the briefest of in-store disagreement with Sparky over the color. I wanted red and he wanted chrome (another freaking shinny surface for him to obsessively polish – like I’m going to agree to that!) so we settled on black. This is fine as my new pots and pans are red.

I can tell you that my sister is NOT coming to visit because she can’t find her passport, the rat.

I can tell you that my brother arranges awesome bachelor parties. So awesome that sometimes the groom doesn’t get to go if he wants to actually get married.

I can tell you that Von Tauber has the sweetest kids in the world. TwinkleToes is just awesome, like I’ve said before. And her latest addition, Squeakster, is the best baby I have ever been around. She is the baby Sparky needs to be around next year when we seriously start thinking about a family.

I can tell you that Sparky has been so busy that our cars are filthy. I can’t even tell the color of my car its been so long since its been washed. I was even the last one to wash it. Car Washing is Sparky’s preferred form of meditation. It’s the wax on, wax off thing that he can do for hours and not think of anything else.

I was actually a little bit ashamed to drive Gracie (my car) so filthy in the land of squeaky-clean. The last time I felt this way was when I had to valet park my ‘87 Oldsmobile Cutlass Supreme with the smashed-in front end and the window that didn’t work. I thought those days were long behind me.

I can tell you that I haven’t had a moment on the computer in over a week because the sweet Sparky is working like mad. The man has more clients than time these days and we are still on the one computer system, which oddly enough gives us more time together talking rather than sitting across from each other sending e-mails. I think we might keep it this way at least until I get pissy about it again.

I can tell you that next week I will be gone for at least seven days and am looking for some guest bloggers because I will be in no condition to blog for probably a couple of weeks and Sparky is probably going to put up some Kylie pictures and I will be in no condition to kick his ass.

I can’t tell you where I’m going but I can tell you it has nothing to do with rehab or babies. And Vernon, I swear, of all things to remember, lactation???

Well, it might have something to do with rehab. I always wanted to be a junkie and man, Sparky can score some fine Colombian. Sparky makes all my dreams come true.