It was a dark and stormy afternoon. The rain fell like bullets, intertwined with hail and ferocious blasts of wind’s stale and icy breath.
In less stylistic words, my plans to run after work were thwarted by rain and light hail. I felt guilty, almost as if I had summoned the rain as an excuse not to go running. I swear, I didn’t. I swear by Level 3 of Ripped in 30!
Even though I wasn’t a fan of Level 2, I thought I would try out Level 3 to make up for the run I weaseled myself out of. It was hard. Especially on my tight upper leg muscles. My arms were shaking and felt weak and spindly trying to hold up my frame. I also had the wonderful pleasure of Dave returning home from work while I was in the middle, so he got to see my sexy face.
Nope, not that one. This one.
Awwww yeah. Not so great. Dave left post-shower, mumbling something about secret birthday shopping. I think he just wanted to wait until my workout face was gone.
Come on, what’s not to love about a girl doing staggered upright rows with a squat in a Guinness t-shirt?
I can even fly with weights! Stick with me, baby, and I’ll fly you to the moon. Or help you eat dinner.
The rain may have stopped us from grilling, but it did not stop us from eating a splendid meal. Just the mere mention of “European Dinner Night” made Dave and I nostalgic for it’s bohemian-like deliciousness.
Stone Ground crackers and Sesame Thins. Formaggio with Sundried Tomato & Pesto, Creamy Gorgonzola, and Abergale with Apricots and Ginger. Smoked Pepper Salmon. Peppers, celery, carrots, and cherry tomatoes.
And fresh raspberries.
Dave and I may be poor, but we eat well.