Yikes, getting in shape for Havasu

First off, this is a pic of our adorable little boat! We are presently remodeling!
My kids love to eat grass!
At Victoria's going away party (to Greece).
Who the heck are these shady characters?
The infamous Keith and Cody having a laugh (most probably at my expense!)
Art took this pic of me sleeping. The cats sleep by me for hours, in my arms!
Mom and the kids!
Me geeking out drawing Grabby but he got too interested!


Well. I mean business on this thing. I have decided to get in shape for Havasu. I have a little over 2 months and I am going to do my very best. I noticed that my thighs are huger than ever today, literally shaped liked upsidedown triangles coming up from my knee. I need help!
SOOOOOOOOO!
With all my will power I am going to try to start my 3 mile walk run, walking up the hill at first (just the hill itself is a good workout) and then up to Ridge Road back to main street and to Alta. I am going to walk alot to start. I don't want to push myself so that I hate it. One of my very very least favorite things about excercies is having to change my clothes into excercise gear. That alone, changing in and out of clothes, seems to take ages. It already takes me long enough just to figure out a daily outfit! But finding the sports bra etc etc etc.....that shite takes forever! So I think that I am going to go to sleep in what I will run in in the mornings..... So that I can just wake up, throw on the sports bra and shoes and take off. Then I can come back to my room and make the difficult daily dress decision when I am sweaty and ready for a shower! Honestly, I want to run in skirts too. That's another thing I hate- gear. Dumb, ugly, brand name gear. I would rather put on a skort and a cute blouse and tennis shoes and take off running. Why doesn't anyone make super cute hip running clothes, with tunic type shirts with pleats on the chest or pleated short skirts? Ugghhh.
But my health, my age, and my body need this. Not to mention my sanity come August fifth.

Also, I have been having 2-6 alcoholic drinks every night for like a month now. I got to cool it. I think one to two beers is sufficient, making an exception for the boat party at the end of June. For those 3 days, anything goes I suppose. BUT- in between, I need to work on this bad!
Dear God please help me be young forever! And not grow giant thighs when I haven't even popped a kid out! Look at Amy! She is like the poster child for cute young moms that look like they never even held a baby! She looks 17! Of course thinner genes most likely run in her fam, but I don't care, I am gonna shed some of this goop. I just want to be healthy and young-at-heart as possible without getting obsessed with excercise (which may or may not be inevitable).

That's all!
Anyone got any weight loss tips? I want to lose about 12 pounds and be strong strong strong!!!!!

Hot as Heat

It's hot as heat here and we didn't expect it to come so early.
The mosquitoes are eatin our arms like hell and even the restaurants are sweaty like Lousiana.
People are everywhere, running around like animals, crazy as prostitutes, bewitched, bothered and bewildered. That's what happens when things heat up so quick.
What was ice melts so fast and then you never espect the thick glaze of the sun to soak into every speck of dirt and crack the land that way. That's the stuff earthquakes is even made of. Shifting, sudden shifting, suddenly in the night, cotton shifts take the place of thick blankets that so soon ago held out the frost.
The motel parking lots blaze like pools of hellfire and brimstone. At two in the morning cars speed like rockets, confused to the lanes, screaming electric thumps from ipods. The age creeps onto the faces of the older ladies at lunchtime, they can't hide their histories or their fret. (Oh how I never want to be that thing) Clothes shrink like withered plants, leaving limbs all bare, some pretty and lusty, some hideous as dying cheese. Curses spit from the lips of the traitors like little razors, white-hot.
The donuts melt, the cars shriek, the sidewalk could cook an egg. The hair sweeps out of eyes like piles of honey and curly. The good priss-tians ice their homes endlessly, mindlessly with so much carefree carbon dioxide that by September they may easily take out one or two ancient arctic glaciers.
The slugs dry up, the flowers flop, the sawdust sticks to skin, the teenagers scramble, the ice cream cones play magic tricks.
Girls shuffle their feet together at rooftops, staring out at the forever moon, a white bucket so heavy it could fall at any moment. They drink from flasks and share the tales of lips and liquor. The boys hang at old stomping grounds, stare like cats and dogs, boys pretend they don't care, panting at passerby hips.
The moon sings robust and dark, sweet and wicked, cool and soft.
The sun shrieks like a raven demon, content to fire us all to see his holy self take over and have everything be as he is.
I dream like a lost little girl of nailpolish and diaries, coffeeshops and poetry, but mostly, I dream about when I see eyes like magic.

This Property/ Condemned Song

Shack down by the riverside all tied up with lace
harmonica she gave to him he plays 3 in the morning
He plays 3 in the morning,
3 in the morning cigarettes glow
off of the back porch where the wanderers come in,
Whistlin' high and their whiskey's low.

Pockets full of stones and shoes broke open
They come in for food, from the railroad.
Brown sun speckles and dust on their faces
Back to that ramblin' trainside southern home.
They play 3 in the morning,
3 in the morning in the full moon shine.
Throw ropes to the water where their clothes are floating,
3 in the morning is as good as anytime.

And their babies are wild as flowers grow,
Eatin dandelions and watching clouds blow.
Those strong ladies are turning to maidens
Brown shoulders are freckled and fading.

With or Without Heart

The dreams bring me earthquakes and floods
So my heart is the same but with life there's more ruin
How can I divert a river that runs its own course
How can I dig to places where I can't detect a pulse?

The pattern of this soul is written clear
I've always been a historian with an obsession for family
The ones that share blood and then the ones without
The ones that share the pattern that coils and spouts.

And the mystical ways is the music I hear coming through
in waves
Breaking in between the cracks when the dream fades to white.
And I will never deny that you're the brilliancy on high
But I want closer to the pure and without love I forget.

You have a crystalline smile, I'll let it shatter for a while
I'm too old to care whether I crumble from a trial
Your heart is spinning on repeat your eyes are children for your feet
I'll take the honesty and sleep into the dream.
You are all that you'll ever need
You'll find the thorn is gone now, you can breathe.
There is no grasping at grasping to seek
You will arrive....
and with or without heart the path makes up its mind.