Well, I know this because I'm all about health these days. For instance, I'm only eating baked Cheetos now. They have all the cheddar-twig goodness of the real ones, except your fingers only stay orange for a little while, which means no more nicotine hands!
Also, I bought the kids some vitamins, only they won't eat them because they aren't gummy and shaped like cartoon characters, but because my kids are too old they have to eat, like, forty-seven of the gummy ones, and that's expensive, so I bought the horse pill kind. They just sit there on the shelf. I'm thinking about feeding them to the dog, just to pep him up a little, and to cut my vitamin-related losses.
I have a treadmill, and it's okay, but it's in a room upstairs and it makes all the floorboards squeak and groan when it's running, and pretty soon the whole house is vibrating. This means that anyone downstairs can't hear what new stupid thing Liz on True Beauty just said, and besides, it's so pretty outside right now. We really should get out and see nature or something, I'm always saying.
So for Mother's Day, I got a new bike. The kind that's ironically retro, and looks just like the one my mother rode around in the sixties, with the basket on the back, and not like the yellow ten-speed with the ram's horn handlebars I rode as a kid (that my pothead stepbrother later dismantled). That one twisted my spine into a permanent hump.
So I’ve been riding my new bike around a little bit these days, and sometimes I force my family to come along. Also the neighbor boy. And the neighbor boy’s personal stalker, a little boy we don't know, with huge, crazy eyes who rides 100 yards behind us on his foot-high bike, and never speaks, just rides behind us. If we stop, he stops. We don't know why. Sometimes he’ll hide behind a row of cars if he thinks we’re on to him.
Don’t feel sorry for him. He’s like a shrunken Lord Voldemort on a Schwinn.
Last week we rode our bikes to the frozen yogurt place (it's healthy!) and the neighbor boy and his stalker came along, and we had to loan the neighbor boy a too-big bike because he broke his riding like a bat out of hell into buildings, and there’s usually foliage jammed in all the crevasses (of the bike, not the neighbor boy) from the last time he ripped through the bushes at warp speed, and anyway, this time he was riding at a full stand, legs pumping, but looking behind him to see if his stalker was gaining on us, and then ...
he was airborne, his body a boomerang with a bike attached. And then the sickening FWOMP!! which signaled the arrival of the neighbor boy’s carcass from space. He lay there in the ditch, underneath the bike, for a few minutes, probably meditating.
As you can imagine, there was an expectant silence.
Finally, his eyelids flickered. Opened. He spoke. “Ima right. Heh.”
I swear that kid’s head is made of titanium. Or foam, I can't decide.
And then we got yogurt, except the stalker boy. I tried to offer him some, but he hid behind the tanning salon next door and ignored me.
So I'm getting pretty fit, I guess, and as long as we can keep the neighbor boy alive I think I'm well on the road to perfect health.
And I might even be a more consistent blogger. Not only is there less Cheeto dust on the keyboards now, but I even have a beginning for my next post. It involves the neighbor boy again, and a mystery. Also some neighborhood updates, perhaps.
Oh, and we're going on a new Family Vic Adventure in a few days, so I'll be sure to bring the laptop and my camera so you can come with us! Yay! A pre-teen and a teenager in the back seat for days and days!! And the dog!! And ADD husband driving erratically!!
Shut up. You're coming.