Define "Friend" **** Updated with REAL pic of Claire

I had been working out for about a year when Claire's husband started working out at the gym. Now folks, this is a tiny gym. About 10 people work out there. We all know each other. Most of these athletes are elite class. Ok, everyone but me. Shortly after her husband started showing results, she joined us.

Claire (from yesterday's post) was already in great shape compared to the average woman. But in the last year and a half, she has seriously put the work in to have a fabulous body. She went on Weight Watchers to learn how to eat a balanced diet. She's cut her carbs. She works out every day. Yoga, pilates, cardio, weights. She is disciplined beyond what my mind can comprehend.

Claire does ask me other advice. Like, what are my thoughts on a bikini made of candy? Was it clever enough to get noticed at a Playboy shoot? Her straps were twizzlers and she made the entire bikini out of candies. I told her that I'd just dip my boobs in honey and then in sprinkles. But hey, I'm a simple girl.

Claire is pretty, in great shape...and get this... she's sweet. She tells me when she sees that I've lost weight in a certain area. She gives me tips that have helped her lose weight. And she remembers my birthday.

Last October, she was all smiles when I walked into the gym. "Happy Birthday!" I didn't even know she knew when it was. I certainly didn't know hers. As I was leaving, totally wiped out from the workout, she stood arms outstretched, a cake box in hand.

Filled with four small cakes. Bigger than petit fours. Smaller than a real cake. Square. Perfetly decorated. One Chocolate. One Red Velvet. One Strawberry. One White.

Claire didn't know what flavor was my favorite, so she bought me four. All for me. To take home. Alone.

So, are we friends?

She's A Size FOUR

Is a fitness model.

Works out with the same trainer that I do.

Has a six pack.

Yesterday, after an hour and a half in the gym, I'm mustering up the last ounce of energy I have left to do my ab work. Knowing that my abs will never be referred to in beer terms.

Claire walks up.

Her: "I want to ask your opinion about what's going on with my Playboy shoot."

Me: "Sure. What's up?"

Her: "Well, they've moved me from the Hot Housewives in the August issue to the Fresh Faces (as if) in the October issue. Why do YOU think they would do that?"

I blew some smoke up her ass about how they probably have too many Hot Housewives and not enough Fresh Faces.

How does the size 4, ripped chick have so little self esteem that she thinks she's suddenly not hot because PLAYBOY decided to put her in a different issue!?

I know the answer. It's her husband that keeps telling everyone (in her presence) that he's not "into blondes." There's no telling how he berates her when they are alone.

It's just so sad to see a Playboy Bunny question her own hotness.

The Letdown

Yesterday had been planned all week. We were going to spend all day on the lake. No more working on the house. No more cleaning. No more staging. No more yard work.

We get all suited up. Picnic in hand. Towels at the ready.

Off we go.

Except the boat seems sluggish. The blower has stopped working. The mph isn't working either.

We head back to the dock as soon as we get past the no wake zone.

My girl takes the cover off of the motor and it's full of water. FULL OF WATER. All around the motor. Everywhere. Pumping begins.

So much for the day with no stress or work.

We get it pumped out...but water keeps coming in. There's a leak around the motor. Drizzling in.

Today, she'll be trying to find someone to help her get it repaired. We know no one in Nashville that works on boats...so if you know someone...holler!

Here's hoping it isn't at the bottom of the lake this mornin'!

***UPDATE***
My favorite neighbor, the one that I gave my extra washing machine to when my girl moved in, just came through for us. He's going to get a friend's trailer, swap his boat for ours at the dock, pull ours out and fix it for us. I big, red, puffy heart him!

Sometimes, the Universe pays you back for doing good. I think Dana should keep the money! It's payback for all of that extra change she leaves at the vending machines.

You Asked For It!

Here. I'm joining the crowd. It's my first vlog.

Yes, I'm from the South. Secret's out with deep drawl. And it's my first time. Go easy on me. HOW do you get these little cameras to stay steady? I bought my girl a Flip Mino for her birthday and it's great...but I'll be damned if I can keep it from looking like you're sitting on my tits as we walk through the yard.

I figure if I share the crappiest video ever...the next one will be so head and shoulders above this one that you'll shower me with praise. So do that, ok?

They've accepted our offer. Now we just have to sell the house we're in. Make you a great deal!

Here's the cabin....



The only good thing about the video? It's short!

So...whaddya think?

P.S. Keep prayin', thinking happy house thoughts, burning sage and sticking pins in potential buyer dolls for me!

We Have Completely Lost Our Minds

For the past several months, my girl and I have had plans to build a house near my parent's house. It's a couple of miles away until they put the new road through. Then it'll be about a mile. Easy walking distance to Sunday dinner and just to stop by and say hi.

That is until last Sunday. We were organizing the house to put on the market. Out of the blue, my girl said, "Let's call Ron and have him show us that log cabin that we pass every time we drive by our lot."

Ohforfuckssake! We're BUILDING A HOUSE! We've talked to Ron until we're blue in the face about this house we both want, making the shower a fully tiled walk-in type, picked a floor plan, this option, that option.

But, she's been dying to look at this log cabin. She's always wanted a log house. So I said we'd look at it, knowing that I would be saying, "It's cute, my love...but, we're building a house, remember?"

*I* have not. Dirty, they are. Dusty. Old. Dank. WOODY. That means bugs. And well, other creepy, crawly shit.

We called Ron and he had his Girl Friday meet us there and open it up for us. She left. We stayed. For two and a half hours. Called my parents. They came. We all walked around the huge almost an acre lot with a real live barn in the back!

Then it happened. The country girl in me came out as I was traipsing about the dirt floor in the barn with a metal roof that's held up by cedar tree posts. I fell in love with a log cabin.

It felt like the years I spent in the country with my aunt, uncle, cousins galore and grandparents by the dairy farm. It felt like wanting to raise something. Tomatoes or chickens or something. It felt like a place to have the entire family over for dinner on the grounds where everyone brings a covered dish.

It felt like home.

Wish us luck as we make an offer on it today. Say a prayer. Think a happy thought.

As much as I never wanted a log home, it's just exactly what we need.

Guess Who?

Yeah, I know her face is washed out...but it's Pat Benatar!!!! I gave my girl tickets for her birthday to her concert at the Wildhorse on Tuesday night. A concert on a school night? Crazy, I know.

We arrived at 6pm and walked up to a line that was several hundred people long. As we were standing in front of McFadden's Pub, one of their waiters came out trying to hustle folks inside.

Him: Why wait in line when we have cold beer and A/C?
Crowd: Silence as they're obviously entranced by Pat Benatar's ultimate appearance. She's supposed to go on at 7pm according to the folks at the Wildhorse. Yeah right.

Him: Cold Beer for much cheaper than Wildhorse and you can eat dinner while everyone else is waiting in line!
Crowd: Crickets

Me to my girl: Aw, come on...let's go in! Give the guy a break! It might be fun!
Her: No. I'm not missing Pat.
Me: We're not gonna miss her. She won't be on for a long, long time!
Her: No....shaking her head.

We start chatting with the two girls in front of us. I have an idea.

Me: Hey...Mr. McFadden's guy...Come 'ere a minute.
Guy: Yeah?
Me: What will you give us if all four of us come in for dinner? Make us an offer.
Guy: How about a round of shots?
Us: Hell yeah!

Crowd: Hey, ya'll were too easy! You should've held out!
Us: Laughing as we walk inside to drink cold beer and have a great time as everyone else waits in line just to get into the Wildhorse. Dorks.

We got a free round of Strawberry Cheesecake shots with the manager and we'll always be the two lesbians in the pic with the married mothers at McFaddens that got everybody free drinks!

I loved stepping out of the crowd. Losing my place to go do something unplanned.

When was the last time you broke out of the crowd?