Ow. Ow. Ow.

So I attended exercise group again yesterday.  Ow.  I’m so sore.  My lower back, my legs, my arms — my whole body is mad at me.  I think it should be mad at the woman leading the group, but it doesn’t work that way.  I did try to take it easy.  I walked the laps, and I often only did half the amount everyone else was doing.  Still, ow.

I took the Purple Lady to the eye doctor yesterday, too.  That was an experience.  She had purchased three pairs of sunglasses (from TJ Maxx) to choose from for the frames of her new glasses.  It’s cheaper that way.  At least $50 cheaper.  She hadn’t been able to find any purple ones, so she settled for some snazzy tortoise shell models.  One pair (Liz Claiborne) featured rhinestones in a design along the stems.  Another (Baby Phat — same brand as her current purple glasses) had a gold logo on either temple.  The third pair (Jessica Simpson — and may I say how hilarious it is that an 88-year-old woman is wearing Jessica Simpson sunglasses?  Not that she knows who Jessica Simpson is…) was relatively plain.  Alas, they were the most suitable for converting to prescription lenses.  I assured PL that we could make a stop at Hobby Lobby and buy something sparkly to glue on the plain frames.  We wound up purchasing some plastic, purple gems.  I’ll superglue them on for her as soon as her new glasses arrive.  They should be suitably outrageous.  I’ll have to take pictures.

PL recently loaned me one of her favorite movies:  Harold and Maude.  Maude could have been modeled after PL, if you ask me.  PL says she saw the movie three times when it was in theaters.  BratzBasher watched it with me.  (I’m hoping all the yikes! moments went over her head.)  We were both laughing so hard, I’m sure Merkin was wondering where we’d come up with the nitrous oxide.  If you haven’t seen the movie, I highly recommend it.  Just be prepared for a few yikes! moments.  Harold is at least 18 (because his mother is trying to marry him off — or get him enlisted in the army), Maude is turning 80, and they actually become lovers by the end of the movie.  (Nothing graphic, I assure you — unless you count the scene with the giant wooden sculpture that resembles parts that should not be mentioned in polite company.  I doubt BB recognized it.  It was a stylized representation, after all.)  One of the best things about the movie is Harold’s various faked suicide attempts and his mother’s lack of any discernable reaction.  Apparently, she’s become used to it.  Then there’s the adventure with the stolen tree.  You’ve just got to see it.  I couldn’t begin to do it justice.

Wow.  It’s 10:00.  I guess I should do something productive — like take a shower, or put in a load of laundry.  Okay, Merkin, you can stop laughing now.

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About foo4luv

I'm a married, bum-around-the-house mom with one child, BratzBasher, who is the only thing in the universe cuter than a bunny nose. I enjoy reading, crafts, sewing unusual Halloween costumes, and taking long walks through Jo-Ann. View all posts by foo4luv

3 responses to “Ow. Ow. Ow.

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