Three Pizzas Later

Guilt: a feeling of responsibility or remorse for some offense, crime, or wrong. I feel guilty.
Yesterday I had two ginormous pieces of STUFFED pizza from Papa Murphy's. Afterward I felt so stuffed that I felt like my stomach was going to get punctured from expanding into my ribs. I was in pain, needless to say. One piece would have been more than enough.
Then again tonight, as if I didn't learn my lesson, I had three pieces of pizza from Dominoe's pizza. These pieces were not as big as yesterdays, but two pieces would have been more than enough, if not one. Following my third pizza (which I only ate to have the flavor in my mouth and because everyone else was still eating), I ate a mug full of LIGHT mint chocolate chip ice cream. I thought to myself, "It's light! Less calories, more healthy, right?"
I came home disgusted with myself so I went to the gym to work it off. As I ran for half an hour I watched the calories ascend on my treadmill. Ten minutes of running worked off the first half of the first pizza. Was it worth it? No. While running, I imagined my thighs thunder like those of an elephant. I wished I had only had one piece of pizza. Why is it that pizza sounds so good anyway? There is nothing healthy about the pound of cheese, buttery crust, or sodium-soaked pepperoni.



Tonight I made a vow to myself as I ran in guilt and pain on the treadmill: eat in moderation and beware of mindless eating. Next time I will eat one piece instead of three. Next time when my body tells me, "That's sufficient," I will stop before I'm full and ready to explode.

The Forgotten Chore

Growing up we had dogs. The one dog I remember most was Jack. He was a beautiful chocolate lab and very calm. He would play hard and then nap even harder. Growing up we also had chores. We had to feed Jack, take him on walks, and most dreaded of all . . . pick up his poop. That's one thing I forgot when we decided to adopt Coco in November.

The past winter was brutal as Rexburg winters usually are. We were faced with the predictable fierce blizzards, black ice, knee deep snow, below zero temperatures, and blasting winds. Now four months and forty pounds later, our not so little puppy has reminded us of the forgotten chore. The snow has melted and like grenades on a war field, an atomic bomb has exploded in the field by our apartment.

Let me paint the canvas for you a little further. We did not pick up any poo this winter due to volatile winter conditions. Coco pooped on average four times a day. Times that by 30 days and then times that by another 4 months and we just reached approximately 480 landmines waiting to be stepped on and explode. Now subtract a few landmines that other dogs ate, a few more that were evaporated into the air, and then add on a few more extraneous piles from other anonymous dogs in our complex.

So with spring comes spring cleaning and today David and I each filled a grocery bag full of poop that looked just like the image above times by approximately 480. We both easily picked up more than 10 pounds each of this winters happenings, and that was just the start. I wanted to take a picture to show evidence, but my desire to wash my hands in hot water with lots of soap for five minutes was stronger. This was not a memory I did not want to cherish nor document.

With fun comes work and I forgot that this winter. Those cute brown puppy eyes just whined, "Take me home!" and I did not think about the 480 piles of poop I would have to clean up come spring. I guess the scripture applies to dogs as well:
"For behold, thus saith the Lord God: I will give unto the children of men line upon line, precept upon precept, here a little and there a little; and blessed are those who hearken unto my precepts, and lend an ear unto my counsel, for they shall learn wisdom; for unto him that receiveth I will give more; and from them that shall say, We have enough, from them shall be taken away even that which they have" (2 Nephi 28:30).

If we would have picked up Coco's poop daily - here a little and there a little - then we probably wouldn't be having to pick up 20 plus pounds of poop this spring. Although this was not fun, I am so grateful for Coco. He got me through this harsh, depressing winter. Coco is butter on my toast, the cherry on my ice cream. He brought warmth to all those blizzardy days, and smiles to my frostbitten lips. He is worth it!

My Latina Obsession

I know we're not supposed to have idols, but I have one . . . Shakira. Here are a few things I like about her:

• Her unique voice
• Her voluminous hair
• Her versatile fashion
• Her spunky music videos
• Her radiant confidence
• Her riped abs

Watching her videos gets me all motivated to go work out in hopes to get her rock hard body. Listening to her music makes me feel like I'm a sexy Colombian. Pathetically,some days I even style my hair with a 3 barrel iron because I want to try to get Shakira's voluminous hair, even though Daveed hates it.

My most recent music video obsession is Loca! This music video screams spontaneity and fun! I love the beat and her dancing. I only wish I could understand more Spanish so I could sing-a-long better! For now, I will just dance.

The First of March

The First of March is a glorious day in Rexburg, Idaho. It means that I made it through February. Before I moved up to Rexburg in 2006, I took a tour of the BYU-Idaho campus with my sister, Maxene, and my dad in December. As we walked the windy sidewalks on campus Maxene and I complained about how cold it was. My dad replied, "If you think this is cold, just wait till February."

At the time I thought he was just kidding, but little did I know in a few months I would know exactly what he was talking about. Let me paint a picture of what Rexburg looks like in February:

• Boogers freeze to your nose hairs
• Students fall to their butts as they slip on black ice
• People push stalled cars at every block
• At lease ten degrees below zero every night
• Jeans become stiffer than a board
• Sacrificing fashion for warmth

One semester Maxene and I took a night class together every Wednesday night. One night our teacher announced that it was negative 13 degrees outside. He said we had about three minutes to get into a warm place before we would get frost bite. Three minutes? I barely had enough time to put on my gloves, scarf, and hat. I wanted to cry. That night we ran home as fast as we could without slipping on the black ice.

March 20 is the first day of spring. I cannot wait until that day arrives; however, I am ecstatic that I made it through February. I know it is all downhill from here. I feel like a bear waking up from a long winters nap. Three months and seven pounds later, I am ready to get out of hibernating and start running again in nicer weather.

Dad always knows best.