First things first: Let me thank all those who have served in our country's military over the years, allowing us to enjoy freedom like few in the world can even fathom. And may we always remember those who made the ultimate sacrifice in defending us against all who wish us harm.
My lovely and talented (and US Navy veteran) wife K is currently a week into her semi-annual health kick. It all started when she did some fairly simple physical task last week and decided she wasn't in shape. This always gets her fired up to become some sort of physically fit poster child for 40+ aged women.
Because this isn't her first rodeo, she already has on hand a fairly complete video library of workout programs. She decided this time to go with The Big Gun, PX90. This is the one where you go 100 mph until you puke or die, whichever comes first. So far she hasn't puked, but I think I did see a guy in a black cloak standing back in the corner watching her intently.
She gets up at 4 am five days a week in order to get her hour-long workout in. My only request of her is to keep her panting and groaning to a minimum as I still have two more hours to sleep. Today I walked into the den as she was putting away her paraphernalia and fixing her after-workout protein drink. This is supposed to help her muscles recover from the torture she just inflicted on them.
She popped the top on one of these little cans of dynamite and slugged it down, then announced, "YUCK!! This tastes like crap. You wanna try one?"
Hellooooooo! I didn't make it this long in life by doing stupid things. (Well, maybe a few, but that was back in my young/stupid life-phase.) You've already told me it tasted like crap. I'm not into re-inventing the wheel. I trust you, dear. And our relationship is all about trust, right? Isn't that what we always say?
Now, if you still have the strength, come pull my finger. ;)