on field days

There are two words that, when phrased together, scare the pants off of anyone.

...

field + day = 

Field Day

Cue the horror movie music. Dun dun dun. The dreaded day of field-ing. Or something. The day of being outside in the heat and having to do things that make you even hotter in the already hotter than heck heat. Slash things that make you feel like a failure. Can anyone remember specific details from his or her field days past? I really just remember hating it because a) it wasn't anything dance related and helloooooo, ballet rocks (and is hard. I'd like to see YOU do a triple pirouette into some fouettes! ;)) and b) did I already mention the being hot outside part? and c) I'm just not athletic at all/I don't care. 

Well when the Pilates instructors at my studio decided to have an instructor field day this past weekend I wasn't sure if I should be excited or if I should be pants-off level scared. Would we be doing Teasers off of the slide at the park? Would we have to memorize all facts about Joseph Pilates and recite his life history while running a five minute mile? I had no idea what to expect. 

You know what I should have been expecting?

A field day full of FUN (it's always fun when the alliteration comes out). 

Because that's exactly what it was. Fun! Funsies. No horror movie music played, no one lost his or her pants from of being scared, and no one lost (okay, that's a lie. My team technically lost but shhhh. Losing is all relative, amiright?). 

Spoiler alert slash PSA: no Pilates moves were used or harmed in the making of this field day. 

Let me sum this up the easy way.

Here are Three Ways Why Adult Field Day Rocks Way Harder Than Kid Field Day:

one

Because you're an adult doing fun kid things. That's way more fun than being a kid doing kid things. 

Being grown a** women decked out in all kinds of blue? Way better than dressing up as a kid. 

two

Because you don't have to be sad when the day is over. Guess what? You don't have to do homework at school tomorrow while daydreaming about field day fun day. You're an adult and adulthood = no homework.

Heck! You're an adult so you can just take yourself back to the park for field day fun day, part II. 

Sidebar: adulthood does equal a lot of responsibilities which are worse than homework, but we won't spoil the fun right now. 

three

Because you aren't timed on your mile run. Instead you just have to scream and run as far as you can until you run of out breath. 50 Yard Scream > all other kinds of running. You get bonus points if the other kids/adults in the park start screaming with you. 10 points for Team Gryffindor Blue! 

no shame in my scream game.

Other field day favorites include: A Day at the Beach, Playground Obstacle Course (children included as obstacles) (no children were harmed in the making of this adult field day), and the Three-Legged Race (not to brag or anything, but my third leg friend, Miranda, and I rocked this one. We were more like three-legged sprinters, but like I said...no bragging).  

So really all that matters is my main end of blog post question: 

Why haven't you had an adult field day yet?
and
Why don't you work with us at Pure Body yet?

on baby showers and babies

I was at a baby shower this weekend. 

Let me rephrase that: I was at a baby shower/dinner party/shindig/gathering of the year/feast extraordinaire this weekend. Our good friends are expecting their first baby in March, and I got to spend the evening on Saturday celebrating them and their probably/most definitely best/most awesome baby of 2016 baby.

I mean, come on, a gift teepee?! Genius. 

Insert a paragraph here about how beautiful and amazing and fabulous and to-die-for everything at the shower was. Ellen, I'm hiring out your friends (a.k.a. profesh party planners) when I am pregnant one day!

And actually, that right there ^^^ that's what I want to talk about. When I am pregnant one day. 

I spend a lot of time thinking about babies. Not because I feel my ovaries whispering, Eeeeeeemily, where's your baaaaaaaby?, but because that's just something someone who wants kids in the future and has always wanted kids thinks about. Just like some people think about pizza a lot because they've always liked pizza and plan on continuing to like pizza (I think I fall into that category as well...). 

If you had asked a young Emily what her future looked like she probably would have said something about dancing a lot (I think she meant on a stage and not in her kitchen, but whatevs), and that she wanted a brood of children and she wanted to start having that brood young. Now, don't get me wrong, I never wanted to be the next 16 & Pregnant star, but I just always imagined having my kids early on and being done with the brood by the time I was 30. 

WHAT.

HAHAHAHA.

Ugh, Young Emily, you are so funny. 

Really though, trust me guys, Young Emily was a hoot. ;)

Being done? By 30? Birthing 3 to 4 (or heck! Let's add in #5 for funsies) kids before I turned 30? 

Have you ever sat down and done baby math before? Like x+y = making a baby. Then divide that by z and you get the nine months to grow the baby. Then add a, b, & c and you'll find the number of months it takes your body to recover from the Great Birth Event (where you poop on the table and don't you dare tell me otherwise. I can see through your lies), and somewhere in there you have to add in the # of months/weeks/years you go without sleep and then...

Well, and then you end up with me being a lot older than 30 when I'm popping out that last little Ricky Jr. My b. We obviously will have to call him Lil' Ricky and not Ricky Jr.

Here's what little Big Ricky looked like. Read: here's why I have to have fifty children. 

Ugh, 'scuse me, but I totally forgot the math part about adding or subtracting or multipli-viding the years I want all of Ricky's lurve for me and me only. Selfish? You bet your bottom dollar. 

My point is that maybe I shouldn't spend so much time thinking about babies. Because I'm not very good at math, I'm easily stressed out, and when you start to think about it for too long you/I get scared.

The same scary feeling you feel when you look down and realize you ate an entire box of pizza. Hashtag my stomach hurts. 

But I guess what my REAL point is is that being at this beautiful shower on Saturday and being surrounded by beautiful moms and moms-to-be made me realize that you know what? Screw it. Doing the math isn't worth it. Stressing out about the timeline isn't worth it. Trying to plan my life down to the second isn't worth it. Worrying about pooping while giving birth isn't is worth it. Because  at the end of the day I know that I want our Weiss/wise brood of children, I want to snuggle the shiz out of them, I want to include them in on the kitchen dance parties, and 30 is just a number and/or a hot, fabulous, young age. An age that I can rock with or without having children or starting to have children or finishing having children. 

My brain hurts from all that math. Time for some breakfast. 

I'm off to snuggle the shiz out of Ricky some more and enjoy not having a brood of children running around just yet. And that's a-okay because they'll be here eventually (way down the road so calm down, Dad). 

friday favorites: the crack edition

This week went by really slowly. In a really fast way. You know what I'm saying?

No?

Favorite Song

Live and Die by The Avett Brothers

I've been on a big Avett Brothers kick lately. By lately I mean for the past three to four years, of course. I used to listen to their I And Love And You album when I would go up to Atlanta to visit Freddie when we were first dating. What I'm getting at is that me and the Avett Bros are supa' tight. 

Favorite Food

Have you ever done crack? Yes, I'm talking about cocaine, obviously. I haven't done it so I'm not sure that my comparison is accurate, but this Whole30 compliant chicken salad is as addicting as what I imagine crack to be like.

TRY IT OUT. Chicken crack salad + homemade mayo. I think it's the homemade mayo that does it.

We made it for lunches this week (with apples instead of grapes) and...it lasted for only one day of lunch. Plus snacking that day plus some dinner snacking that night. Good thing we're not gluttons or anything.

WAIT. We added in dill, too. DON'T forget the dill. 

Favorite Purchase

I had a Nordstrom gift card burning a hole in my wallet, and I like my wallet (come on, its a HOBO!) so I decided to take matters into my own hands and use the burning gift card. 

Zella leggings
Do we like these workout pants? Do we think they are too busy, or just the right amount of fun? I'm using the pronoun we because these are questions that I cannot answer by myself. Ah well, I guess we/I will find out soon when these are delivered to us/me.

Favorite Pilates Move

Swimming

As a society we tend to live in the front of our body. Following? The computers, the phones, the texting, the reading--it's all done in front of us so we're all hunched and crunched forward. That's one of a million reasons it is so important to work on the back of our bodies, work in extension. This move is great for waking up the back of your body that's been napping since 2007 when the iPhone came out. 

Pro-tips: Use your back muscles (NOT your neck) to pull yourself up. Back of the neck stays long as if you were staring at the bottom of the pool. Hip bones and pubic bone are heavy on the floor, and abdominals are lifted up out of the floor. Put a thumb tack under your belly. That'll get you lifting out of your abs ;)

Favorite Lupe Picture

I hope you understand how difficult of a category this is for me. My camera roll contains a plethora of Lupe pictures, and somehow they all end up being THE CUTEST PICTURE EVER TAKEN. It's weird that 75 pictures can all hold that one title, but whatever. Who am I to argue? This week's favorite goes out to my favorite yawning, 'bout to eat your face off doggy.

Promise it's just a yawn. OR MAYBE HE'S SCREAMING SOMETHING AT YOU.

Happy Friday!
Linking up with Karli and Amanda.

lessons from emily

It's been 70 degrees here in the past couple of days. Not like a warm 70, but a crisp, cool 70. 

Does that make sense? We were walking the dog yesterday and Freddie was making fun of me for wearing a jacket when it was 70 outside. I had to explain that 70 degrees can feel very different. A low of 70 is one thing and that one thing is warm. A high of 70 is a tad different. A high of 70 means a low of 40 which means cold.

A crisp, cool and beautiful 70 degrees. 

So yes, 70 degrees can feel very different depending on if it's the high or the low. Do you think Freddie appreciates that he can learn so many important things from me? I hope so. 

Here are some other tidbits of knowledge that I have ever so graciously shared with Freddie:

It's better to stuff and cram things in drawers than to have it out on the counters. Drawers looking messy is okay (for a bit). Counters looking messy is not okay for any bits. 

Shut the dang shower curtain. I can deal with closing the toilet seat all day, erry day, but we wouldn't want a mildew-y shower curtain now, would we? WOULD WE?!?!

Even though we have an endless supply of throw pillows, it does not mean that we have an endless supply of pillows. Throw pillows are for looking at, not laying on and scrunching up. Obviously! Not all pillows are created equal.

Worry about everything. Everything! Are you worrying that you aren't worrying enough about everything? Good! That means you're headed in the right worry direction, but could still use some worry work.

When singing along to the Jake Owen song, Beachin, sing 'cocaaaaaaaaaine', instead of 'cold can.' Just do it. It sounds like that anyways.

While writing and brainstorming this very facetious post, all I kept coming up with were serious and very helpful things that Rick Rick has taught me. Like always try the vegetables you swear you don't like because you haven't tried them in years and they will become some of your favorites (hey, Mr. Eggplant, I'm talking to you). Or just swallow the dang Tums when your tummy hurts, no matter how chalky and gross it tastes. It will help. 

May your 70 degrees always feel sunny and warm!

What are some important things that you have taught your lavah?

on loving your neighbor as yourself

This weekend was one for the books. The biggest, fattest, encyclopedia-width books. 

You see, this past Saturday at precisely 10am tickets for the Rodeo concerts went on sale.

What's Rodeo? you ask. Good question. I'm still unclear about that, but I am clear on that fact that Darius Rucker is performing at Rodeo and that we had to get tickets to his concert. Had to. Not a want, but a necessity.  

If you've been reading this here blog for awhile then you know that me and Darius are biffles. We were neighbors first, then grocery shopping buds, and now biffles. And biffles support each other by going to each other's concerts. I make it easy for Darius and his crazy schedule by not performing. 

At 9:30 am sharp Freddie and I got ourselves in some virtual waiting rooms for some Darius tickets. You get randomly placed in this said virtual waiting room and once 10am hits, you randomly get chosen to buy tickets until all are sold out. Seems fair, cool, easy, and stress free, right? Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. 

80% of the tickets were already sold out to season ticket holders which left not a lot of tickets for US.   Who invited season tickets holders to this party??? Get out. 

I was in two waiting rooms, and Freddie was in one. We were serious about these tickets, folks! Seriously serious. 10am came and left. 10:10 came. 10:20 came. 10:30 came. All left without us having any Darius tickets.

post wouldn't be complete without a blurry picture of my virtual waiting room computer screen. 
How are we supposed to support our neighbor/best friend if we can't get out of the waiting room?!!?!? Riddle me that. 

I started doing what any crazy and annoying completely sane and logical person would do and began bargaining. To whom I was bargaining, I'm not quite sure. Maybe the Rodeo gods? Or Darius on some Jedi brain wave power? I don't know, but I was bargaining a lot. 

Pleeeeeease! If we get tickets I'll buy cowboy boots! You know how much I don't want to buy cowboy boots. Whoever you is/are, I hope you did know that. 

We'll stay in Houston for the rest of our lives if we can just get out of this waiting room!

I'll sing all the lyrics to all songs correctly from here on out! 

^^^That's a hard one to keep, people. This proves how serious this thing was. 

Around 10:43 Freddie was chosen to purchase tickets. Freddie. Who had been in ONE Darius waiting room. Not two, but one. I only held it against him for about 0.00005th of a second because it meant that WE HAD DARIUS TICKETS!!!

!!!

They may be super cheap and in the bloodiest nose-bleed section, but I'm going to pretend that they are VIP neighbor tickets and sing my heart out. Maybe even dance in some cowboy boots. Who knows. But I do know that we'll be cheering on our favorite neighbor. Wink. 

Take that, virtual Rodeo waiting rooms. Come on and get here, March! Yeehaw or something. 

Oh, no one is as excited as we are? Cool. Carry on with your Mondays...