13 Monday May 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
10 Friday May 2013
It’s that time of year. Allergies kick up, shedding requires more pushes of the vacuum around the house, the weather can’t decide if it’s winter or summer, and childless single woman over the age of 30 refill their Xanax prescription to prepare for their 24 hour Facebook blackout on Mother’s Day. I’m actually convinced Facebook has some sort of under the table deal with the anti-depressant folks. You can’t tell me since the people of the world have decided to post every minute of their day (me included) on a “wall” for the entire world to see, the rate of severe clinical depression hasn’t risen. I envy those who are social media blind and don’t know their Facebook from their Twitter. Their lives seem so uncomplicated and serene.
When Riggins was a puppy I had a dream that Josh (Anna’s oldest son, who at the time was very young), Riggins, and I were standing on a platform inside a volcano and I had to choose which life I could save. Riggins or Josh. I immediately chose Josh but it made me so furious. I was angry for a long while after that dream. Of course I would choose the human child but the fact that Anna’s adorable baby was more valuable than my adorable baby, and this really couldn’t be debated, pissed me off. Don’t try to debate it. You can’t. In that horrible Sophie’s choice you HAVE to pick the human child. There is no way that you can say a dog and a human child are equal. You just can’t.
So when I saw an article on Dogster (a dog blog site) titled, “Do ‘Dog Moms’ Count When It Comes to Mothers Day?” I was ready to get annoyed. It was on a dog blog so undoubtedly the answer was, “yes.” I was all ready to scream, “Stop giving us crazy dog people a bad name!” Let’s face it. I don’t need anyone giving me a lift to crazy town. I can manage my way there all by myself, thank you very much. I have to say after reading the article I, reluctantly, started changing my mind. Perhaps I was part of a population that could celebrate on Sunday.
Here are the arguments and counterarguments I came up with while reading:
* I never refer to Riggins as “my dog.” He’s always, “Riggins.” When we walk I yell out to him “sweet baby boy,” “sweets,” “baby,” “cutie boy,” “sweetheart,” etc. although I’d never call out “come my son.”
* Riggins will, very most likely, die before me. Some people put this in the “pro human” category to prove dogs aren’t “children.” I “only” take care of my baby for 13 years-ish while you get yours until he is 18. Who are we kidding. I’m 39 and my folks still take care of me. I see this as a huge negative. I don’t know a single “dog person” who wouldn’t love their baby to have the same life expectancy as a human. I’m a mom to a child that I know has a shorter life expectancy than me. It doesn’t make me love him any less.
* My baby can’t communicate. He can never tell me what hurts or how he is feeling. I have to figure that out on my own. I have insurance for him and he sees the vet more than I see my doctor. When Riggins had that unfortunate ear issue and Riggins couldn’t get comfortable on his bed I dragged a pillow into the office, where he was sleeping, and laid down next to him so I could be there if he needed me. His comfort often comes before my own.
* I can leave my baby unattended alone while “real” mom’s can’t (without having child protective services being called on them). I do admit that is pretty convenient but given a choice it would be a very hard decision. I wouldn’t mind taking him everywhere I went with me.
* The clincher to me was my attitude now that I’m a dog sitter. The dogs that stay with me aren’t treated like “dogs.” They are treated like someone’s baby. I even refer to them as such in emails and texts (see video below that I recently sent to Clover’s folks). Why was I allowing them to be “dog parents” and not me?
Riggins isn’t sitting in his kindergarten class pressing his paw into a round clay disc to gleefully hand me on Sunday but I think I’ll go get myself an ice cream as a celebration for me!
Happy Friday! (And Happy Mother’s Day to Mothers of humans and other living creatures.)
09 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Riggins
Tags
craft, cross stitch, homemade, needlepoint, quilt, Riggins, sampler
(I’m still sick. I don’t know what hurts more my throat or my chest. I’ve decided to ignore it. I’m sure that will work …)
I’m thrilled to announce that I (finally) finished my first quilt! I first mentioned this quilt to you in mid Feb so it’s been awhile. The majority of it was completed months back but the hand sewing of the binding (the edge of the quilt) took more time than I expected mostly because I had to keep it away from any dogs that would prefer they be on my lap vs. having me concentrate on sewing.
My mom has been hard core quilting for about a year now. She’s REALLY good at it. I’m lucky enough to own two of her pieces. She made me a tiny quilted center for my dining room table and a HUGE and beautiful quilt for my bed. That one isn’t even the biggest she has made. That amazes me. I can’t 
even imagine making any quilt bigger (or with so many more pieces) than the lap throw that I did!
When I showed my mom a picture on Pinterest of a quilt I liked she decided I should make it. At first glance it seemed pretty easy, for a quilt, so a perfect project for a novice quilter. There wasn’t really a pattern but the overall look was a tree bark that had a heart and initials “carved” into it. Of course it was a no brainer that I would change the initials to “Riggins.” (The original Pinterest poster now makes these on request. You can purchase at her Etsy store. Although I think it is kinda weird to have a stranger make something so personal for you it isn’t a bad price. You’d have to pay me closer to what Demi Moore’s character was offered in Indecent Proposal to make this again.) A trip to JoAnns yielded the perfect fabric including material for the back/binding that had brown leaves all over it. (We didn’t purchase enough and my mom was nice enough to go back and get more so I’d have enough strips to make the binding.)
The hardest part (and when I say hard I mean the part that most tested my patience) of quilting is the need for PERFECTION. Everything has to be perfect. The Wendy attitude of, “good enough” does not work. My mom helped cut and pin everything … thank goodness. She sewed on the heart to the main piece of fabric but after that refused to sew another thing despite my, sometimes constant, begging and whining. According to her I needed to be able to say that I made the quilt myself. So there you go! I can officially say that!
If you choose to make this quilt, and why wouldn’t you it’s adorable, I suggest making the bark pattern fatter. Meaning more space between stitches. It seemed like such a good idea to put them close together for more texture when I was zipping through the first few but about 1/3 of the way in I was done. By then it was too late. I couldn’t go from skinny 
to fat part way through my quilt! I had to grit my teeth and power through. (There was no pattern for the “bark.” My mom and I started to draw a pattern on with pencil until she looked at me and said, “You can just do this right? We don’t need to draw this on.” I guess so …) I’m pretty proud of the bark pattern. When I was nearly finished my Dad, clueless at what was happening, came in and said it looked like a tree. GREAT! PERFECT! GOAL ACHIEVED!
During this process I was reminded of something I’ve always known. If someone makes something for you (a quilt, afghan, needlepoint, etc.) they REALLY LOVE YOU. They have spent their time, money, energy, tears, and sometimes (in my case) blood to hand make something, a one of a kind something, especially for you. Cherish it. It’s special. I choose very carefully who I hand make presents for. I have to feel like they will appreciate it and the effort it took me. Personally I feel that a homemade gift is far superior to anything you can purchase at a store.
Now I can move on to my next project. I’m cross stitching a sampler as a gift. I realized, when describing it to friends, that many people don’t know what a “sampler” is. To be honest how I’m using the word and what it really describes is a bit different. Long ago, pre-patterns, women who were good at needlepoint would keep a “sampler” of their work. Anytime they invented a new stitch it would be added for reference. These samplers are a mix of different types of threads and needlepoint styles. They would often include using the stitches in an alphabet along with basic patterns and numbers. These were passed down in families and eventually seen as art and framed and hung in homes and museums. A bit later a “sampler” became a learning tool for young girls. In school needlework was an important subject and each girls “sampler” showed off what she had learned. These also often contained the alphabet along with quotes, sayings, etc. Apparently you could judge a girls status based on her sampler, skill (financial ability to get lessons), and quality of fabric and thread. Laura from Little House on the Prairie most likely had a sampler.
Today when I say sampler I am referring to a needlework pattern that contains the alphabet and sometimes numbers (Although I’d consider a “Home Sweet Home,” “Home established …”, or other such sayings samplers as well). My mom made the sampler that hangs in my entry way right now. This is its third house/apartment it has been hung up in and I love it. A handmade sampler, to me, is a symbol of a loving and happy home.
There are patterns for very simple samplers. Much like those girls on the prairie it’s a great place to start if you want to get into needlepoint.
08 Wednesday May 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
I feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. It really pisses me off. Clover deserves to hike Runyon and run free through the flowers. Instead I’m going to have to force myself out of bed and take Riggins and her to the dog park. Not nearly as much fun for any of us.
I’ve missed my last two days of Bar Method class and today isn’t looking great. I despise being sick.
I blame the crazy weather flux in LA this past week. Thursday it was shorts and tank tops hot. Monday it was pouring rain. I suppose it didn’t help that I took the dogs to Runyon Monday morning rain be damned. You know what Clover likes more than being wet? Being wet and muddy. She was so happy!
I hope I feel better tomorrow so Clover can have more Runyon days before she goes home.
07 Tuesday May 2013
Tags
Don’t hug a dog. That is one of the top rules of dog and human etiquette if you don’t want to loose part of your nose in a dog’s teeth. Understandably the dog sees the move as aggressive (or if he/she is well socialized a move to wrestle). Kisses are another no-no. What moron would put their face up to a dog’s nose (shamelessly raising my hand).
I hug and kiss dogs. Every single dog I’ve ever dog sit or know well I’ve hugged. I get right up in their face and give them kisses and a snuggle. I don’t suggest you do that. Per the rule it just isn’t smart. And yet … Riggins gets cuddles almost every morning. He will come to my bed and wimper until I say, “come up and get kisses.” He jumps up and positions himself so I can drape my arm over him. I’ve curled up with Morgan in the Gogreve’s guest bedroom. Even the killer, Lousy, wanted to snuggle whenever possible.
90% of what I do would give Cesar Millan a heart attack. Cesar’s dog etiquette follows the main rule that a dog is a dog. Not your baby. A dog. Ha ha ha ha ha ha! As if. Riggins puppy trainer told me how he gave his dog his own steak every now and then. He also fully admitted his dog had separation anxiety as the dog went EVERYWHERE with him. His reasoning is that his dog’s life is short so f*ck it. He was going to do anything he could to make his dog’s life the best possible. Hazzah!
In general the bigger the dog the shorter the dog’s average lifespan is. This is proof positive there is no God. Big dogs are almost always the biggest hearted lovers you could ever meet.
Case in point … Clover. Clover is a golden retriever mix (mixed with something big) who is staying with Riggins and me for a while. I call her the Gentle Giant. She is about 35 pounds bigger than Riggins with fur that feels like crushed velvet (and is all over my house … I just vacuumed yesterday and my hall/bedroom looks like it has a white fur rug over it) and a giant fluffy squirrel tail. Clover spends our time at home laying in the middle of my house where the bedroom door and kitchen door meet the hallway. No matter where I want to go it requires me to step over Clover (usually bending down to give her a smooch). The best thing ever is hugging her. I lie down and use her as a full body pillow. This poor dog doesn’t get a normal Wendy hug she has to endure a full body hug!
I’ve walked the neighborhood with Clover and Riggins only once so far and every single person was scared crapless of the terrifying creatures at the end of the leashes I was carrying. Riggins and Clover where much more interested in getting to the many squirrels we saw scurrying up the trees, than tearing any humans to bits. You have a much better 
chance of getting nipped by a chihuahua then Clover!
Give me a big dog any day. Not that I don’t like small dogs too. I do. It’s no secret that if I had a little dog he would come EVERYWHERE with me in a fancy little purse. Poor thing. Imagine how tortured he would be. When it comes to hugs, comfort and overall goofy happiness I pick big dogs. Big dog hugs are the best! Cesar is missing out.
03 Friday May 2013
Tags
On the look out for bad guys.
I saw Iron Man 3 this morning. I liked it. Not my favorite Iron Man movie but well worth my movie and popcorn money! I may have been the only woman in the audience and therefore the only one charmed by Mr. Tony Stark. There were a number of times I was giggling and I could feel the eyes of the Marvel believers around me trying to shoot laser beams into me. I don’t know why. The character is funny … weirdo nerds (said the woman who got up early to go see the first showing of Iron Man).
Would there even be a successful Iron Man movie franchise without Robert Downey Jr.? Maybe. I suppose they’d find some other charming Hollywoodian to portray Stark, but it just wouldn’t be the same. No matter his faults that Robert Downey is a good little actor! He even makes me forget about how much I loathe Gwyneth Paltrow. So thank you Robert Downey Jr. for bringing Iron Man to life (well and Stan Lee, those other guys at Marvel, all those folks that worked on the movie …. you know … the little people).
The previews, and there were many, shown this morning were jam-packed with super hero movies so I came home and immediately made Riggins dress up in a cape to take pictures with me. Well actually his cape is Super Girl’s skirt but don’t tell him that.
* Different topic. I don’t know what accent those Smith boys are sporting in After Earth but I don’t care. I’m in. I heart all the Smiths …. every single one of them. Whipping their hair, fighting aliens, fighting computer generated creatures, karate chopping. I love it all!
HAPPY FRIDAY!
Extra pic: This obviously isn’t Riggins. It’s baby Gavin wearing the cape I had made him. I like capes.
02 Thursday May 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
Tags
I’ve written a lot about Bar Method (here, and here, and here, and here), so you know it is my exercise of choice. You also know that it was not/is not easy for me! When I took my first class on 9/8/2009 I was super cocky. After all I was a triathlete. What did I have to fear? I promptly almost threw up 1/2 way through class! After nearly passing out I walked out of class into the waiting room where one of the owners (although I didn’t know that at the time) Kate, came out to check on me and Mason (who I also didn’t know at the time and wasn’t even the super star teacher he is now) promised me it got easier. I must have looked as bad as I felt.
Just a small sampling of the classes I’ve attended.
Over the years I got better. Not great, but definitely better. I’ve admitted before I’m not at all flexible so it is a slow process for me. The day I could touch my toes I was elated. The day I got through all of thigh exercise without re-setting I was beyond happy. The day that one of the teachers said, “Oh my goodness Wendy you are at the tall barre.” I smiled like a cheshire cat. All of these things were HUGE accomplishments for me.
Last year I took a time-out from life (as you know). Due to travel and mental angst I didn’t go to class as often. When I left my job at the beginning of the year, I told myself that while I was looking for my new career I would take Riggins up Runyon and go to Bar Method as much as possible. My health and happiness was going to come first … dang gumit!
Going back “full-time” to Bar Method was not easy. I re-dedicated myself to 3 or 4 times a week. If I was insane, or it was raining and I couldn’t do other activities, I’d bump that number to 5. It took me a long time to get back to where I thought I had been before (minus the gumption to stay in thigh … man I hate thigh). It was heartbreaking how hard it had become again but I wasn’t going to give up.
This week I made myself a vow to step it up to the next level. Riggins is still limping so my daily trips up Runyon or my run around Silver Lake isn’t happening. I have no excuse not to give 100% in my evening Bar Method classes. I can’t rely on the crappy excuse that I was up early spending an 1 and 1/2 hours hiking up and down a mountain with a dog or two, so didn’t have to work as hard. I needed to dive deeper into Bar to move to the next level. This week during class I realized what I had been missing. I was missing the mental aspect of class. It took me this long (4 months) to shake the self-doubt and general unhappiness I had last year and to refocus on what I was doing for myself. My body wasn’t the only thing in the game anymore. My head was back in it as well!
Concentrating really hard on controlling my shaking hand.
Let me tell you it is tough! I’m back to hurting every day after I work out. Something somewhere hurts every day. The good hurt. When I leave the parking lot and put that little parking ticket in the machine to let me out, my hand is still shaking from how hard I worked. Tonight I went to meet a friend for a drink and had a hard time holding the wine glass correctly without it slopping all over the place because of my STILL shaking body (1 1/2 hours after class had ended). What has changed exactly:
None of this is earth shattering. In fact it’s odd I didn’t put two and two together months ago. Again I blame everything on my horrible last year. I obviously had to turn my brain off to survive and it’s starting to fire back up again!
One day I was walking back to my car after class and a young woman asked if I had been going for long. I said I had and then she asked if I ever feel like it is hard. Apparently she felt she didn’t get a workout and would now have to go to the gym. I told her she was doing it wrong. I was a little nicer than that but not much. I feel the same way when people leave negative reviews online (there aren’t many). It’s easy if you want it to be. Get your head in the game, and mind your positioning (aka do it right) and you will be shaking when you put the parking ticket in the machine too! If you aren’t feeling it you are letting yourself do it wrong.
I have followed this new and improved work out plan for an entire 3 days! Ha! I feel like I’m getting more out of it and overall I’m prouder of myself and find myself standing up taller. The best thing of all? Now I’ve written it down so I HAVE to keep it up or I’ll not only disappoint myself but I’ll disappoint you and we can’t have that!
Please share any tips you have on getting to the next level of your exercise of choice. I’d love to steal them! AND … if anyone can give me tips on how to get through dreaded thigh during Bar Method class PLEASE enlighten me.
The current Bar Method teachers at the Pasadena studio. Source.
(Bar Method studios are all over the US & Canada. I have been loyal to the studio located in Pasadena, CA and can tell you all the instructors there are wonderful. I’m not the kind of person who chooses the class she goes to because of who is teaching it but instead I go when it is the best time knowing no matter who the teacher is, I’m going to be getting a good one. The two owners of the Silver Lake, CA studio used to teach at Pasadena so I can tell you they are also pretty brilliant.)
30 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in Riggins
Tags
Daenerys Targaryen, dire wolf, dragons, Game of Thrones, Lost, Morgan, Peter Dinklage, Riggins, Tyrion Lannister
Sir Riggins, first of his name, lord of the Isle of Squirrel, and son of Wendy the Amazing.
(I suppose I should warn that there may be Game of Thrones season 1 and 2 spoilers in here. Although if you haven’t watched those yet that’s on you.)
I’m a huge fan of TV in so much as I watch a lot of it but I’m not a fanatic fan of any show. There is nothing that I “must see” as it airs. Frankly there isn’t anything that I can’t have sit on the DVR for a day or two. I blame Lost for this lack of enthusiasm. That show destroyed my TV soul. It was so aggravating. I remember reading an interview with one of the creators that it wasn’t their job to answer all the questions. Really? Then whose job is it? You need to at least answer a majority of the questions. That last episode made me so furious I could feel my blood pressure rising. Stupid Lost.
Riggins is not amused by me. I, on the other hand, find myself hilarious.
Most of the shows I have loved, Boston Legal, The Big Bang Theory, NCIS have been forced on me by others. I am drawn to them kicking and screaming that I didn’t need another TV show to follow and that I just don’t have enough time to give up to more boob tube action. Then I settle down and realize that the shows are brilliant and add them to my DVR schedule. Last year when I was very unhappy I was drawn to sitcoms. I didn’t care what sitcom it was as long as it was 22 minutes of easy to digest “humor” with a solid beginning, middle, and end, I was happy. This year I’ve been drawn more toward the hour-long dramas. Things I can settle in and get involved with but not so much that I can’t check Facebook or flip through Pinterest while I’m watching.
The Gogreve girls with Morgan. Cassie, Giovanna, and Shelby
When my friends the Gogreves (better known to you as Morgan’s folks) told me that I NEEDED to watch Games of Thrones I tossed their suggest aside. They were brought into the GoT fold by their daughters and were mesmerized by the series. One day last week I went to pick up Giovanna and Morgan for some dog park time and she handed me season 1 on disc demanding I watch it. Here is the thing, Giovanna doesn’t watch TV. The ONLY series she watches are Nurse Jackie (she is constantly asking when it will be premiering) and Shameless. The fact that Giovanna had sat down and carved out enough time to watch not only season 1 but season 2 was not just amazing. It was as close to a miracle as I’ve ever come. That was what persuaded me to pop in disc number one.
Now I can’t stop! Darn those Gogreve girls and their dark magical powers of persuasion. It wasn’t enough they had to take down their parents with the series. Now they had me too! I can’t stop watching the show. I’ve given up my life and dedicated it to kings, queens, dragons, and wolves. I’ve NEVER watched a series one episode after another but I just can’t stop. It’s addictive.
No surprise the wolves are my favorite! In the first two seasons they are originally played by dogs but in season three become CGI, making them bigger and badder than ever. It’s my understanding that the wolves’ characters are much more important in the books. Giovanna’s mother is ashamed of us all that we dare waste our time on the TV series when the books are a million times better. She is probably right. 1. Because she is a mom and mom’s are always right. 2. Books are almost always better.
My favorite character is by far Tyrion Lannister. I’m madly in love with him. Sure he isn’t perfect but who is? He lives in a land where chopping off someones head is common place. In fact that normal argument of, “they won’t kill him off he is a main character” means nothing to the writers of The Game of Thrones. Tyrion is a charming bad boy with trouble written all over him which is, after all, my type (Sad but true. Admitting it is the first step to a cure.) It also helps that the actor who plays Tyrion is crazy good. Peter Dinklage can act circles around any cast member of Lost.
It’s only a matter of time before Tyrion comes up against Daenerys Targaryen (the character every man who watches the show falls in love with) and turns into dragon charcoal. The woman owns dragons. Come on. She wins! (I’m only up to season 3 episode 3 so this may have already happened and I don’t even know it.)
This entire blog is a really long way to tell you if you haven’t watched the series you should. It is worth your time. You can thank me by buying me a dire wolf or a dragon.
29 Monday Apr 2013
Posted in Riggins
Riggins harmonizes with sirens. Not all sirens. They have to be a specific pitch, but if they are he joins in as they zoom past. This often happens in the car which amuses those around us. You can’t make him stop even if you wanted to and why would you? He is helping out our brave fire fighters, cops, and paramedics. Here he is yesterday afternoon. Note that Morgan and Miles (more on him in a second) think Riggins has lost his marbles. Isn’t he the sweetest boy in the entire world? I like the moment when he stops and snaps back to being Riggins. It’s like he goes from Superman to Clark Kent in a blink of an eye.
Riggins and Miles fight for Wendy snuggle time.
Now the promised scoop on Miles. Miles hung out with us on Sunday. I nicknamed him Miles the Sweet because that is what he was … sweet. He is part golden retriever, chow, and something else I can’t remember. A true loveable mutt. His fur is like silk so you can’t stop petting him which is a-okay with him. He also smiles when he is happy (aka panting) which means if you look at him during a smiling moment, he will burrow his way into your heart.
Morgan, a notorious other dog hater, was mean at first but warmed up fast to Miles. The two of them ran an uncountable number of circles around the backyard. Morgan would follow Miles to the end of the earth … air humping him the entire way. Morgan doesn’t know how to hump right. This is a good thing as I never have to pull him off a dog … since he is never on one. He skips the “mount” part and just stands behind the dog humping the air. It is pretty darn funny.
Miles face looks a lot like Riggins did when he was a puppy. It made me love him even more. When looking at the pictures how do you tell Riggins and Miles apart?
Miles has dark brown/black eyes while Riggins has pumpkin colored.Miles, Riggins, and Morgan were the Three Musketeers yesterday. Minus the time Riggins was howling and the other two thought he was bonkers.
26 Friday Apr 2013
Posted in Uncategorized
I’m not an athlete (not the first time I’ve said this to you). Just because I do athletic things sometimes does not mean I’m an athlete. In high school I was that kid that did well in archery … and that’s it. My sister was on the long distance running team but at that time you couldn’t get me to run longer than a mile if my life depended on it. I recently attended my friend’s daughter’s (college) softball game. I was mesmerized by the speed of the balls being whipped around. As my friend’s daughter fearlessly ran, jumped, reached, leapt, and fell to get to the ball screaming past her, I turned to my dad, who was with me, and said “no way!” No way would I EVER put myself inline with that speeding projectile! If that thing was coming toward me I’d duck screaming my lungs off. Not an athlete.
Later as an adult, as I got submerged into real life, I turned to exercise to help relieve stress. Fitness was a welcome and happy side effect. I now try to work out 6 days a week. Again I’d like to point out working out on a regular basis does not make me an athlete so it seems completely unfair that I should sustain injuries like they do.
2 or 3 years ago I managed to get a stress fracture on the top of my left foot. It’s a fairly common injury for runners and, at the time, I was running a lot. Alas I didn’t land wrong while running around the Rose Bowl. Nope. I landed wrong when I misjudged the steps in the jacuzzi at Burke Williams (a local spa chain). The doctor had me off my feet for 6 weeks and in one of those ugly black stabilizing shoes. It was a drag. Once you have had a stress fracture you are kinda screwed. It tends to be recurring which explains why my foot has been hurting lately. Pisses me off. The correct thing to do would be to keep off of it, stop exercising, and pull out that ugly shoe from the back of my closet. It just sounds so annoying and boring I don’t want to do it. Instead I’ve been slapping some KT Tape on it and relying on the magic I know it possesses (btw – KT Tape doesn’t stick as well if you use
coconut oil as a moisturizer. Even after washing a few times and pouring rubbing alcohol on your foot it still contains traces of coconut oil and causes the magic tape not to stick.). Then I can continue to hike with the dogs and stay on tippy toe during Bar Method thigh exercises. I can compromise and ditch the little running I’ve been doing. Lately my shoulder has been bothering me too. Completely unfair since I haven’t been swimming (sniff — I miss swimming). So if someone could come over here and tape that up for me I’d appreciate it! Just don’t make me wear that ugly shoe!
Have a Great Weekend!
Me Myself & Riggins 