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You know you live in So’Cal when…

Your near 9-month old baby practices yoga, on a daily basis. Child’s pose? Check! That one where you lie on your back and hold your feet and rock from side to side? Check! Downward facing dog? A favorite. See below:

Similarly, James has been demonstrating a maddening fitness affinity. This is a a man, mind you, who gained weight right along with me during 9-months of pregnancy. I’m talking, a man who would “take one for the team” and when I was in the mood to consume four separate pints of Ben & Jerry’s ice cream in one sitting would do so in kind. Such a thoughtful partner that he did not want his wife to be the only creature resembling a great white whale in the household (if you’ve looked at the birth photography photos, YOU KNOW WHAT I AM TALKING ABOUT, chubba-chubba-chunks). This is a little thing called sympathetic pregnancy, and sympathetic he was. 40 lbs of sympathetic.  I thought that perhaps, for the first time in the history of EVER, I might lose the weight faster than him because I, ya know, pushed out 9 lbs of baby and a lot of other stuff, and then had the advantage of breastfeeding which gave me a negative 500 calorie advantage per day. Damn the speedy male metabolism! James went on nay 1 lazy jog and curbed his sugar eating habits, and BOOM! that 40lbs was gone in 2 weeks. WTF?! Meanwhile, here I am, 9 months later, down close to 50 lbs but with an abdominal area that reminds me of The Smooze (throw-back 80s reference to My Little Ponies, WHO IS ON IT?!).

Then James had to really drive home the point by declaring two and a half weeks ago that he was going to run a half marathon, yeah, in two and a half weeks. At the point of announcement, he had done ZERO training. I’m talking maybe one 4-mile run per week, and if ambitious, a hike with the baby strapped to his back. I mean, I know she is close to 20 pounds, but that does not constitute training for a marathon, even a half So I laughed, and said sure sure, and waited for some sign of effort or training to go into effect. A couple more runs were had, but again, meager. On Saturday night, I noted that James consumed a hefty bowl of carbonara, i.e. pasta, and bacon, and cheese, and cream, and egg (read: HEART ATTACK IN A BOWL) and not exactly the carbo-loading a fitness-buff might recommend. So when Sunday morning rolled around, I assumed that that silly little 13-miles would remain merely an ambition. But no. The alarm went off at 5am. James stumbled out of bed. Rolled up to Pasadena. And what did that crazy asshole do? He ran 13 miles, THE ENTIRE 13 MILES, and returned home, WALKING! As in functional! As in not a cripple tied to a wheel chair as one would assume when one DOES NOT TRAIN PROPERLY FOR A MARATHON! Motherfucker. He ran it with two of his bosses (who I might add HAD BEEN TRAINING FOR THE PAST TWO MONTHS) both of whom are limping and moaning and groaning in soreness and pain two day later. Not James, no, he’s all, I could’ve had a faster time, but I held back to hang with Bossman. I totally could’ve kept going too. I think I should do a full this summer.

I find this so incredibly maddening because I never, ever, EVER could accomplish such a feat with such little planning or effort. It would take me the full training schedule, and even then, I would be lucky to even finish with all appendages intact. I thought that James might “learn a lesson” or something from this nonsense about how we all can’t just be naturally fit and gifted, that something like this takes proper training, BUT BALLS! FOILED AGAIN!

Now I’m going to go drown my disappointment in a bowl of chocolate chips (yes, because I am too lazy to make the cookies), and maybe a plate of nachos, because I AM SO READY FOR LIFE IN NEW ENGLAND.

Damn you fit Angelenos. Damn you.

Plastic Bag Bags

You’ve got reusable totes tucked in your purse, stashed in the trunk of your car, and lined up by your front door. Despite your best efforts, however, those ubiquitous plastic bags seem to make their way into your home, taking refuge under the sink. Time to unclog! Pull out those bad boys and create a fashionable solution- The Plastic Bag Bag! Also look for bags Louis Vuitton Replica that suits you.

Materials:
80-100 plastic bags
1 pair of scissors
1 large crochet hook, size S

Directions for Plastic Bag Yarn (refer to image):
1. Fold each bag in half lengthwise.
2. Fold lengthwise once more, to create a long, narrow strip.
3. Cut off the handles and the very bottom of the bag along the seam.
4. Cut the bag into pieces about 2 inches thick.
5. Unfold the pieces into strips of round plastic and connect them to each other, two at a time, by placing one ring over the other and pulling a loop through.
6. Pull gently so as not to break the plastic, and continue cutting and connecting the bags until you have generated a large ball of plastic-bag yarn.

Crochet Bag Pattern:

BAG


Round 1: Chain 3. Slip-stitch to join in a ring.

Round 2: 2 single crochet (sc) stitches in each stitch to end of round (6 sts).

Round 3: 2 sc in each st to end of round (12 sts).

Round 4: 2 sc in each st to end of round (24 sts).

Round 5: *1 sc in next st. 2 sc in next st; rep from * to end of round (36 sts).

Round 6: 1 sc in reach st to end of round.

Continue last round 15 more times or until bag is desired height, then begin handles.

HANDLES


Round 1: 1 sc in next 3 sts, chain 25 (or desired length of handle), skip 12 sts, 1 sc in next 6 sts, chain 25 (or desired length of handle), skip 12 sts, 1 sc in next 3 sts.

Round 2: 1 sc in next 3 sts. 1 sc in next 25 sts of handle, 1 sc in next 6 sts, 1 sc in next 25 sts of handle, 1 sc in next 3 sts.

Round 3: 1 sc in next 3 sts. 1 sc in next 25 sts of handle, 1 sc in next 6 sts, 1 sc in next 25 sts of handle, 1 sc in next 3 sts. Fasten off.

Instead of winding up in a landfill for thousands of years, these bags can create one durable, long-lasting tote for all your shopping needs. Who knew being a bag lady could be such a classy affair!

Photo: Courtesy of Ashley Weeks Cart