Colorado. Runner. Yogi. Fucking hilarious, like, 17% of the time.

The cream in my refrigerator is starting to curdle, and I'm drinking it anyway. ---

Yesterday, I left the house twice. Both times to walk the dogs.

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I have more kale and chard and collard greens and spinach than any one person can eat (thanks, local farm produce delivery!). I literally have no idea what to do with it. What do they do in the south, cook it with cornmeal and bacon fat? (It's possible that I think that cornmeal and bacon fat are the basis of every southern meal.)

For this upcoming delivery week, I had them swap out my kale for a coconut. I'm assuming it isn't local.

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With the exception of my workout clothes and Crockett's old button-up shirts, I hate every single article of clothing that I own. I want Melinda Gordon's outfits. (No? Jennifer Love Hewitt's character in The Ghost Whisperer? Anyone? Bueller?)

Except that lame ass pant baby blue pant suit she wore in the second episode of the first season. Pleated front tapered leg trousers are no one's friend.

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My nose is all stuffy and my throat and my muscles hurt. I would like to say that I have a cold, but I'm pretty sure it's a combination of allergies and that week and a half I took off from the gym while I was at summer camp.

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Crockett is out of town for 11 more days.

That's a lot of days.

I need a project.

Ooo - how about I burn all my clothes in the backyard? Bonfire!!

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it was muuuuuurder

summer camp