Category Archives: January

But how ARE you?

Sweet friends, how have you been? I’ve missed you. I’m coming out of the fog of illness and I’m beginning to see just how lonely January has been. When I say I’ve been sick ALL of January, I’m not exaggerating. From a cough that has hung on for 4 weeks, to the flu, to bronchitis, I’m officially over this month. I wanted to quit Christmas just over a month ago and now I want to quit January 2017. Did I mention I also missed out on a ski trip to Lake Tahoe? Yeah, there was that. It’s been an isolating few weeks and I think I’m finally ready to reemerge back into the world.

And remember when I made the month long resolution to be off social media? Yeah, I’m not doing that again any time soon. I’ve learned lots of things about myself since I’ve been alone a lot and I can say with all honesty, I’m ready for it to be over. As a person that doesn’t work everyday outside the home, I don’t always interact with lots of people throughout the day. I’ve realized that social media was my connection to the world. It was my way to engage with other humans even if it was just through my phone. Being physically away from people for so long and then also taking away social media has left me a bit depressed. I hate to even say that because normally I consider myself a “pick yourself up by your bootstraps” kind of girl but this time it’s been different. I haven’t been able to “positive attitude” my way out and that’s been extremely humbling. So yeah, that’s the space I’ve been living in for the past month. It’s not been my favorite.

So what about you? How ARE you? Did you see where our new President was inaugurated? (I know, some of you say he’s NOT your president but if you’re still living in the United States, I hate to break it to you but he actually IS. I digress.) I’m not into chatting about politics very often on here but can we at least discuss Melania’s dress at the Inaugural Ball? STUN-NING.


I bet designers are chomping at the bit to dress her. And Ivanka’s dress. GORG. I know it’s trivial but I’ve had all I can take of serious/depressing thoughts lately. And can we talk about how well behaved little Barron was? That was an extremely long day with lots of cameras on you and I didn’t see one meltdown. I didn’t see Melania pulling Skittles and Sprite out of her purse to bribe him. He wasn’t staring at an iPhone during the parade or listening to music through his earbuds. I didn’t even see an eye roll out of the kid. Who is this guy? I’ve got a 10 year old and she could keep it together for a while, but seriously? No candy for being good all day? And I feel like I wouldn’t begrudge her a couple of eye rolls. It’s a LONG day! I like to think that when his parents were at all the balls with his older siblings, he was chillin’ in his new room with junk food and watching Dude Perfect videos while working on his bottle flipping. I mean, he’s still a kid, right?

And who is so glad that This Is Us is back?!


That show. Sigh. It makes me so teary and gives me all the good feelings every time. I mean, Jack the dad? COME ON. He’s perfection. It’s almost like he became the man I knew he could be when he was Jess on Gilmore Girls. And Gerald McRaney as the OB-GYN? Masterful. His monologues make me cry every time! It’s like the creators of the show knew that America needed a new family to root for. A family that is good and makes you want to believe in, well, family. If they’re going to take away Coach and Tammy Taylor, then take away the Bravermans, it’s only fair they give us an extraordinary replacement. If you don’t watch this show, stop wasting your life. Go watch it. From the beginning. If you hate it, I’m not sure I can understand you and I question your life choices.

Thanks for reading all the ramblings today. And thanks for understanding life’s sometimes good and sometimes the pits. Hopefully more good is on the horizon!


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A letter to the tickle in my throat


(current nightstand situation)

Dear Tickle In My Throat,

You are the worst. You are stealing hours of my life. You are stealing my sleep. You are stealing my ability to speak. I have to sleep in the guest room because of you. I also have to cross my legs every blessed time I cough because I never know how violent the attack will be and I don’t want to risk tee-teeing myself (thanks, kids). You are the absolute worst. I’m ready to break up with you. We had a good run and I thought 2 weeks was long enough. And just when I thought you were gone for good, you came back. You came back with a vengeance, you little punk. You know I have a trip coming up that’s been on the books for months. So I’ve decided, you are not the boss of me. I am coming at you with everything I’ve got. I’ll see your waking up hacking in the middle of the night and I’ll raise you hot tea with lemon, melatonin, and honey. And I’ll see your raspy voice and raise you cough drops with honey and menthol. You hear that? MENTHOL! And guess what else? I went to one of those juice places today and had them make me some concoction of lemon, honey, pineapple, and cayenne pepper. I felt that sucker all the way down to my toes! I keep hearing I need to “coat my throat” and apparently the way you do that is with lemon or honey. It got me thinking…honey’s basically sugar, right? I’ve been neglecting sugar because sweet Tummy-Tum is in a fight with her but these are desperate times! Maybe I NEED the sugary sweetness to get over you, Tickle. Maybe a lemon meringue pie would do the trick? I mean, it’s lemon and apparently that’s a common denominator in all these “natural” remedies. Or maybe a lemon iced cookie. Where could I find one of those so I don’t have to make it myself? Hmmm…

Tickle, I think you might be altering my mental state. Maybe you actually ARE the boss of me. I need you to pack your bags and find a new place to live. My chest muscles literally can’t keep doing this. They are tired. I am TIRED. I need uninterrupted sleep. Let’s face it: I’m not in my twenties waking up with newborns anymore. I can’t function on a few hours of sleep. I used to think I could run the country if I could get 4 consecutive hours. Those days are gone! I need at least 6, 7 if you want dinner on the table. So I’m begging you, leave me be, wretched Tickle. You are no longer welcome here.


My irritated throat


Tickle actually turned out to be THE FLU! And let me tell you something, the flu is THE WORST AND IT WAS TOTALLY THE BOSS OF ME. It’s my first time to ever have it but, jeez louise, I’ll have a lot more sympathy for people who get it from now on. The muscle aches, the coughing, the chills, it’s awful. And yes, I had to miss my trip with the hubs because of that stupid virus. Luckily my mom was already here to watch the kids so she took care of them and me. Dontcha just love moms? They’re the best. Anyhoo, so far January 2017 hasn’t been my favorite. I feel like I’ve been hacking up a lung for most of it so I’ll be delighted when it’s over. Bring on February!

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5 Things I’ve learned from being off social media


In following through with my New Year’s resolution to stay off social media for the month of January, I’ve noticed a few things:

  1. I check my phone far more than I thought I did.

*I never realized what a habit it is for me to look at my phone! It’s like any time I have a spare second I’m reaching for the thing! I feel so silly grabbing it so much now since I’m off social media. Like do I really need to check my email 100 times a day? No, because, let’s be honest, I don’t need to check and see how many coupons have been sent my way from every website/store I’ve ever shopped at…EVER. Which reminds me I probably need to go through and unsubscribe from all the junk mail I get it my inbox.I get maybe 5-7 legitimate emails that need tending to a day, so to check my email all the time is a waste.

  1. I thought I might get FOMO (the “fear of missing out”) but it turns out I’m not.

*I do miss engaging by commenting back and forth with people, but otherwise I’m not sitting around wondering what everyone I follow is doing every second of the day.

  1. I’m reading more.

*I forget how much I enjoy reading until I sit down to do it. I know I love to read but sometimes I let mindless activities steal my attention; watching TV and checking social media being at the top of the list.

  1. I’m more productive around the house.

*More often than not, if I’m looking at Instagram or Facebook at home, I will get lost in the black hole for 30 minutes or more. I would start clicking around and before I knew it I’d wasted so much time just staring at my phone. It’s like I would black out for a while and when I came to I’m looking around thinking, “Where am I? What have I been doing? How is it already 10:30?! I should be in bed!” Now, instead of succumbing to the social media tractor beam, I fold clothes, I pick up around the house, I unload the dishwasher, I write, I don’t put off emails/phone calls, etc. Basically, I get stuff done more quickly because I’ve lessened my distractions.

  1. I go to bed earlier.

*Because if I’m trying to eat healthy AND I’m off social media, what else is there to do after 9:00pm? If I can’t sneak junk food while my kids are asleep or stalk people on the internet, what good is staying up late? Truth bomb.

So here’s to one New Year’s resolution that’s been good for me and hard for me. How are your resolutions going? Good, bad, or ugly? I want to know!


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A Letter To My Belly


(cartoon courtesy of

Dear Tummy-Tum-Tum-

I’m writing to you to apologize. I have been horrible to you these last few weeks. I’m reminded of how ugly I’ve been to you every night when I’m getting ready for bed. As I peel off my skinny jeans, that will seemingly never go out of style much to my thighs disappointment, I look down at you. Oh, honey. It looks as if you’ve been tied up in bondage all day. My jeans have basically left rope burns all over you. I could cry for you, you sweet bowl of jelly. My jeans have been taking advantage of your squishiness and I’m tired of it. Being embarrassed of the red marks my jeans bestow upon you is no way to live. You are better than that and it’s about time I started treating you as such. So in efforts to make taking off my skinny jeans NOT resemble opening a can of biscuits, I will be making a few changes.

For starters, I’ll try not to eat every single thing my eyes see. It seems I’ve been doing this for the past month or so but I’m willing to stop for you, dear tummy. It will be a lot easier to stop considering we don’t have Christmas treats in the house anymore…because we ate them all. It’s fine. We can’t live in the past. Let’s shake off the shame and move on.

Secondly, I will try to eat more nutritious foods that don’t cause you to get bigger. Now, this will be difficult considering these are the not the foods we gravitate toward naturally. You and I are a bit addicted to the sugar, not the beets, unfortunately. Don’t worry; I won’t make you eat beets, I promise. But we will have to sacrifice beloved desserts for something less satisfying, like flavored water. I’m as torn up about it as you are.

And lastly, I will commit to exercising more. I know it hurts when we do this but just think about the bigger picture. Do you really want it to feel like a blunt object is impaling you every time you sit down with jeans on? That button on my jeans is like a dull knife cutting into you every time we are sitting. Is this what you want? No, what you really want is to wear elastic waistbands 24/7 but this is not always socially acceptable. But I take care of you don’t I? I give you your elastic waistband every night by 7:00, sometimes earlier. I care for you, little tummy, just not enough to go up a pant size.

So this is what we must do, Tummy-Tum-Tum. We must not eat everything in sight, eat healthier foods, and exercise more. This is not going to be easy but I’m tired of the skinny jeans abusing you. It’s not fair and it’s time for it to stop. We’ll make it through this together, one lean protein and vegetable at a time. Hopefully I won’t be writing you any more letters because, frankly, it’s a little weird but I wanted you to know, in the words of Zeke Braverman: “I see you and I hear you.”


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Wanna go on a run with me? Great, let’s go!

Wow, it’s so cold out here. How can it still be this cold at 1:00?

I should’ve worn my running gloves, my knuckles are freezing.

Old man up ahead. Probably need to pass wide on the left so I don’t scare him. I don’t want to have to employ any of my nursing skills if I give this guy a heart attack by startling him.

I’m feeling good. My legs feel good. I could run all day.

These ear buds stink. Where are MY ear buds? Ugh, Paxton used them last so I need to ask him where they are when he gets home from school.

Is it bad that my toes are numb? Not like cold but like numb numb? Maybe I have poor circulation in my feet. Kyle says my feet are always cold. I should get that checked out. Who am I kidding; I’m probably not going to go see a doctor. Maybe I’ll look into those compression sock things. I’ll look like I’m wearing old lady knee-highs but what do I care? Lesbihonest, Court, nobody’s really honking anymore when you run by. I mean, if someone did honk I would pretend to ignore it and be mildly offended but deep down, I’d think I still got it. One honk would be nice. Wait! I just heard a honk! Oh, that minivan just cut off that car. Sigh.

Um, what happened to my music in my right ear? Are you kidding me right now? No sound. I feel so lopsided with only one ear bud working. This is terrible. The static every 10 seconds in my right ear isn’t helping.

Ok, we’re coming up on a stoplight. I need to press the crosswalk button. This is so awkward standing here while these cars are stopped right next to me. Maybe if I stretch that’ll make me look like a more legit runner. Just don’t lose your balance during the quad stretch, so embarrassing. And definitely no eye contact. Ok, run across.

Ugh, more stopped cars at a stoplight. Be cool. No eye contact. Just pretend to stretch. Ok, go. Ohmuhguh, this hill is steep! I’m so walking when I get to the top. Made it. Watch out for that ice; slipping and breaking yourself when your 2.5 miles from your car would be an epic fail. Ok, we can run again, it’s all downhill.

What the WHA? No. This isn’t happening. No music in the left ear. The ear buds are dunzo. This is so bad. I’ve got probably 2 miles left. I’ve never run without music. I need the music. I’m not Zen enough for this! Now I’m just stuck with my thoughts and no soundtrack! Ok, maybe this is a good thing. Maybe I should think of potential blog posts. Note to self: you’ve wiped your drippy nose 58 times with your sleeve. You have GOT to wash this pullover.

Listening to myself breath and the occasional car passing by is the worst. It’s basically like Nash is breathing directly into my ear except that it’s me. I’m dog panting and it’s the only thing I hear. Maybe I should try out that voice memo thing on my phone and dictate blog ideas? This is going to sound horrible. I’m not sure even after dictating this I’ll be able to listen to it. It sounds like I’m being tortured. Maybe I’ll just remember what my ideas were. Yeah, because I’m known around my house for having an amazing memory. I’m basically the elephant that never forgets. Except that’s a lie.

Ok, is the back of my knee hurting or is it just because I don’t have music to distract me? My feet are killing. Court, get it together, it’s only like a half-mile left. I wonder if the cars passing me think I look like a wounded gazelle. Like she looks like someone who used to be fast but now she looks injured. It’s probably a good thing I don’t know what I look like when I run.

Hallelujah praise Jesus I made it!! There’s my beautiful, salt/snow/dirt-covered car! Maybe I should write about this run…


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Why I don’t cook for my kids


(This was taken years ago but is still pretty accurate.)

I know it sounds a bit harsh: “I don’t cook for my kids.”

But it’s the truth.

I had a friend ask me a while back, “Doesn’t it hurt your feelings when your kids don’t like your cooking?”

The short answer? No.

Here’s why:

  1. If I cooked for my kids, we would only eat chicken nuggets and cheese quesadillas. That’s a fact, friends.
  2. They think the Kids Cuisine TV dinners are real food. They would be wrong.
  3. They eat old candy they find in my car.
  4. They think box macaroni and cheese is better than homemade. It’s baffling.
  5. Basically, they think anything out of a box is pretty much going to be better than whatever I’m making.
  6. They’re little, surely their taste buds are still developing.
  7. They judge a restaurant by whether or not it has an iPad at the table or queso as an appetizer.
  8. I’ve seen them eat their boogers.
  9. They don’t love when I cook Pioneer Woman recipes. Say WHAA?
  10. They hate Tazikis.


Because of these things, I feel they are not objective when it comes to good food therefore their opinions are invalid. Seriously, who doesn’t like Pioneer Woman?

I’m not great at a lot of things: cleaning, putting away laundry, excel spreadsheets, sticking to a budget, walking into a room full of strangers, and on and on the list could go. But one thing I would say I’m pretty good at is cooking. I’ve made some disgusting meals I wouldn’t even feed my dog but for the most part I can follow a recipe. So when my kids put up a fuss about dinner and say “It’s GROOOSSSSSSS!!!!” (a regular occurrence) before they’ve even tried it, I don’t pay it any mind. When they just look at their plate of food and ask how many bites must they eat before they can get up, I smile and say, “Just go ahead and get started and we’ll see.” They love that. I’ve seen them eat old M&Ms off my dirty car floor, why on earth would I let them hold my cooking ego in their grubby hands? This is ludicrous.

There was a time when I cooked for my kids, or kid. When I had only one child and he was a picky eater I catered to whatever I thought he would eat. It was easy because, well, I just had the one kid. My mother guilt sometimes creeps in and convinces me this is why he is still a picky eater at 11 years old. I only did it until I had my 2nd kid and realized Mama ain’t got time for all that. Sorry, bro, you gotta eat like Mom and Dad. These were hard times for Paxton.

Do I think I only cook well-balanced, nutritious meals for my family? No. I love some enchiladas and jambalaya. Do I think most of the food I cook is healthier than what they would pick if they had a choice? Most definitely yes. Do I sometimes give them quesadillas and chicken nuggets because it’s easier? Yes, because sometimes I need sanity and if I hear one more complaint I might lose it.

So to the Mamas whose kids hate everything they cook: I FEEL YOU. Keep cooking good food. Remember they are kids; they wouldn’t bath or brush their teeth if not for you. Clearly they don’t always want to make good choices and this is why they have us, the parents, to teach and guide them that there are other foods out there. Expand their palates!! Maybe just maybe they’ll end up liking it one day.


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It was a big day…


This story, you guys. There are so many feelings inside this story. So many prayers and tears have gone into this story. I don’t want to give it all away before it’s ready to be released but I’m just so excited I can’t stand it! This is just the proof copy for me to look over but I wanted to give you a sneak peek of the cover! I MEAN. So cute, right?!? I can’t even handle it. And the inside? Oh the inside is a masterpiece. I can say that because I didn’t illustrate it myself. If it were my handiwork, we’d be seeing a LOT of stick people. Ya’ll it’s so good. Your kids are going to love it because it’s got pretty pictures. YOU are going to love it because of the message. You will not necessarily WANT to read your kids this book but you NEED to. Trust me on this. I’ll give you more details as the release date gets closer. I can’t give away all the goodies on the front end! It’s my ploy to get you to come back to the ol bliggidy! Painfully clever, I know. I promise to keep you updated and, more importantly, let you know when it’s coming out!!!! EEEEEKS!!!!


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The Grizz


This is Grizz. He was what Blake wanted the most this Christmas. I had a conversation with Grizz on Christmas Eve while I drove him to his new home. It went a little something like this:

“So, blue fish, I’m going to start by saying I’m so sorry. I know nothing about fish and you might be dead in 2 days. I feel bad for you, blue fish. I don’t know if we’ll remember to feed you and I can’t make any promises my kid won’t tap on the glass of your new home and bug the heck out of you. He’s really going to love you though. He’s going to love you so much he’ll probably ask me if he can feed you 15 times a day. I’ll try not to let him but he’s tall now and can reach the food so it’s basically out of my hands. Blue fish, I’m just so sorry. For real, you’re probably going to die soon but at least it won’t be in this lame cup. It will be in a little aquarium with rocks and a blue plant. Even though you’re close to death, I hope you have some happiness knowing that the little boy who’s receiving you is going to be stoked that you’re his fish. Like crazy excited. So at least you have that.”

I’m so happy to report that Grizz is still alive and well 2 ½ weeks after coming to his forever home! Can you call it a “forever home” with a fish? I don’t know, it’s better than saying your “temporary home before you start swimming upside down”, right? Anyway, Blake was SUPER excited about his fish and is actually quite good at remembering to feed him. He wanted to name him Grizz because his basketball team is the Grizzlies this year and since we have some Memphis roots, we cheer for the Grizzlies. Well, as much as I cheer for any team. Really this just means I get a little warm fuzzy when they play because I’m from Memphis but that’s about it. My boys are much better fans than I am. I know, Memphis peeps, I’m a huge disappointment. If it makes you feel better, Knoxville feels the same way about me.

I just wanted to take a minute and introduce you to the newest addition to the Allen house. Don’t worry, Nash is adjusting just fine.


P.S. Be on the lookout for some BIG news about my new children’s book!!! Excited doesn’t even cover it!!!

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Dancing with Fear

Fear. It’s a powerful feeling. For me, it’s probably second only to love. It has the ability to cripple me if I choose to let it. It gives me thousands of excuses as to why I don’t need to chase dreams or do anything out of my comfort zone. Fear is a bully. Fear digs deep inside of me and plants seeds of doubt and anxiety so they will grow roots and attempt to strangle hopes and dreams that are planted deep down as well. Something interesting that I’m finding as I am chasing something God dreamed up a few years ago, is that hopes and fears are not mutually exclusive. They don’t have to be separate. They can coexist in my life and create enough tension to propel me forward. Hope is supernatural. There is no other reason for hope except that God placed it in our hearts through Christ. Fear is human. We fear because we are human beings that aren’t in control.

This year, 2016, I’m resolving to marry hope and fear in my life in order to give birth to courage. Courage doesn’t come in absence of fear nor can it come without hope. I must have both as a means to practice courage. Without fear, the dream is too easy and without hope I would be crushed under the weight my fear. I need both.

Some of you know, some of you don’t, that I have been trying to publish a children’s book in the last year. It has given me all the feelings. ALL OF THEM. It’s getting close to being finished and printed and I couldn’t be more excited/scared/humbled that this little story is coming full circle. I will tell you more as it gets closer to releasing but for now, I’m trying to live in the tension of hope and fear.

Much of this revelation came from a song I heard this year. It’s become one of my favorites and I hope you like it too. It’s by Ben Rector who is amazing and wonderful and talented and entertaining in concert. Appropriately the song is called “Fear.” My favorite line of the song says,

“I learned to dance with the fear that I’d been running from.”

This line spoke straight to my soul. Dancing with my fear. I’d never considered that I could do that. Thanks, Ben. If you have a couple of minutes, give it a listen. As a matter of fact, listen to the whole album. It’s well worth your time.

Here’s to doing things that require courage this year. Why not do something that seems scary and uncomfortable just to see how it turns out? More times than not, these are the things that grow us more into the people we want to become. On a side note, my family gave up desserts for the month of January and this is VERY SCARY. I don’t recommend courage in the form of “no desserts”; this is lunacy.


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Sledding: Part Deux

Quip: Melting snow is like Christmas decor the day after Christmas. It was pretty for a time but now you’re ready for it to be gone. #becauseweneedtogetbacktonormal

Night sledding.

Not sure how many of you have ever participated in night sledding but let me tell you; it’s a whole different ballgame. I don’t know if it’s because it’s dark or because it’s more frigid, but sledding at night just seems more dangerous, err,  exciting. It’s definitely not for the littles. Night sledding is when boys become men and men, well, they revert back to being 12-year-old boys. These guys were getting a running start to basically catapult themselves down this icy hill on their Radio Flyers. I’m pretty sure somebody clocked them going 35-40 mph. Ummm, that’s wicked fast! (Ya’ll like how I channeled my inner Bostonian by describing it as “wicked”?) If you read my last post, you have a pretty good idea of whether or not I partook in this activity. For those of you who are new, just picture me standing by the fire pit. Spectating. Spectating is my jam. We had a fire pit and chairs at the top of the hill so we could observe comfortably. And one of the guys had their truck parked at the top of the hill with his headlights on so we could see the sledders who clearly had a death wish.

I’m sitting there with my neighbor friend watching these men and commentating on how crazy they are, how fast they’re going, etc. when my neighbor says, “Court, let’s do it but let’s go down together on the plastic sled.” Ah, yes, the plastic sled! I can totes do that! We were using one of those sleds that look like a canoe so we could fit…sort of. I get in back and hang my feet out either side and my friend sits up front because she’s the daredevil and clearly I’m not. We get our bearings and lift our feet off the ice so the sled can get moving. Everything goes beautifully for about 30 feet, or about 5 seconds. Then we start veering to the left. We both lean to the right to try to get back to the middle of the street.

No dice.

I look to the left and all I see is our neighbor’s yard which is a steep, downhill slope. Like wicked steep. Oh and guess what’s at the bottom of the hill? Just a big fat brick house. No big deal. Never mind that I watched a little girl go flying down this very hill only to end up hitting the BRICK porch and flying off her sled. Minor detail.

My neighbor and I are both trying like mad to redirect our little canoe when we finally succumb to the way of the ice. It takes us off the asphalt and into our neighbor’s yard. I was kind of hoping now that we were on icy grass we would start to slow down a bit. My reality crushed that hope almost instantly. Did you know that 2 inches of ice on grass works the same as 2 inches of ice on a street? Who knew?

We. Were. FLYING! This was almost worse than the street because you know what doesn’t grow in the middle of the street? Trees. We were now praying we didn’t plow ourselves into a tree. It was becoming increasingly evident we were going to have to bail.

(Side note: I had no idea this was a sledding term til last week. #TNwinterprobs)

Ok, moving on.

Bailing from a sled when you’re by yourself is one thing. Bailing from a sled when you are riding with someone is significantly harder. I’m inclined to think it was particularly hard this time around because I had been carb loading all week. And no, it wasn’t because I’m training for a marathon. It just so happens carbs help you make it through the day when you’re trapped at home. It’s a scientific fact. Pretty sure.

Then there’s my partner in crime/death sitting in front of me. She has no idea that my foot will most likely take her head off when I try to flip myself off this sled. She’s had a good life though. She’ll be missed greatly but I’ll take care of her children. Everything will be fine.

Ok. So I can’t wait any longer. I have to get out of this sled. I hope she’ll be ok. It’s now or never. So I sling my leg up as high as I can so I won’t decapitate her then I flip off the sled. I can’t remember if I landed on my stomach or back. All I knew was even though I was off the sled I was still sliding down the hill. But slower, much slower. Obviously my carb loading was doing its magic of turning me into a slug. After I came to a stop, I look down the hill to see if my friend was in the snow or plastered against the house. Thankfully, she too had been able to bail before colliding into the house. We were both laughing hysterically as we tried to make our way back up the hill. Then she says to me, “If this doesn’t make the blog I don’t know what will! This is definitely a blog post!” So here it is, CB, I hope I did it justice. Do comment if I have left out any details!

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