Are my pants on fire?

Even the casual reader here will know that I detest exercise. All forms. I've blogged before that one thing I enjoy about my second job is that I'm getting paid to exercise. So far, I've been happy with that.

Then comes The boy. See, the boy and I work the same job. Only, my tasks at the job tend to be a little more physically demanding on a daily basis. I'm not saying he doesn't work hard, because he does. It's just he gets to rotate and do different things different weeks. So while one week for him may be physically demanding, the next week may not be quite as intense. On a nightly basis, I start work and do the same task for 4 straight hours, burning calories the whole time. He has to run around and do other stuff so it's not continuous.

Anyway, last night as we're chatting on the phone on the way to work, The Boy mentions again that he's been thinking of ways that we can exercise together. He agrees that the job is exercise, but somehow thinks that once it gets routine, it doesn't do as much for you and therefore we need to supplement. He mentions that he's considering running for half an hour to an hour in the mornings when he gets off of work. I listen and comment something along the lines of, "well good for you." Until I realize that he wasn't talking about running alone. Apparently it was an invitation for us to start running together.

I get off of my second job typically around 5 a.m., sometimes later. It's a 15 minute drive home and then I usually like to hop in bed for anywhere from an hour to 2 hours depending on my morning schedule for my regular job. Then I hop up, go to work, come home and try to sleep 4 to 5 hours, but it ends up being 2 or 3.

Now, The Boy is expecting me to give up precious sleep time to go running? Have I mentioned I'm starting to question The Boy's sanity.

Spit Swapping

The Boy and I and his kids paid a visit to my parents' house over the weekend. Yes, mom. I know he's a man. But "the boy" just sounds better. Anyway, on our way over, we stopped at a roadside produce stand to pick up some sweet corn. We'd had really good luck at the stand by his house, but unfortunately he forgot to check the sign and it was closed on Sunday. Totally his fault. So we had to stop at a new place we'd both seen up the road.

Stopping was probably our first mistake. I got out to get the corn, and his 5 year old (D) wanted to help me carry it. When we got up to the stand, there was a half watermelon which had been cut into little cube pieces. Immediately, D noticed the watermelon and asked for a taste of it. The stand owner happily obliged by offering a cube on his plastic fork. D, of course, was pleased and took it with no qualms. Next, stand owner, whom, so you get the picture, was toothless and forgot to put in his dentures that morning, turned to me and offered me a piece off the same fork. I graciously declined. He then offered the community fork to the next person in line, before helping himself to another piece and gumming the fork to get every last morsel.

And to think, I didn't like watermelon before.