Quality Control

What's with the lack of quality control in our lives these days?  The shops are in a constant state of chaos; the people who work in the shops are (for the most part) vapid excuses for human beings; nobody seems to care.  Well ya know what?  I care.

The more quality control I can bring to my life, the better.  Yeah, I'm anal as fuck, but when it comes down to brass tacks, it's because I expect the best from people.  Whoa, serious breakthrough with my own psyche.  I tend to expect the best from people at all times, yet seem unable or unwilling to reciprocate, at least when it comes taking care of myself.  Give me a job to do and I'll likely do it to the best of my ability, and possibly even push the hell out of myself to go above and beyond what I knew I could at the outset of the task.

So why not adhere to that same level of q.c. all the time?  From this day forward, I will try my fucking best.  I swear.  And no, that doesn't mean I'm going to become a Stepford Wife.  That being said, there is a 1950's housewife in me; the Wife and Mom who beams rainbows out her valiumed being, all the while dressed in a frouffy outfit with fresh lippy on.

Today brings with it the start of week 3 of my new focus on health and fitness.  There have been a few bumps along the way, but nothing major.

This morning I found a lovely 45 minute walk/lung blaster of a journey through the forest.  I force myself up and down hills that aren't necessary, and feel all the better for it afterwards.  Not too long into my walk this morning I came face to face with a coyote on the path.  I was scared.  It was scared.  I thought we stared at one another for an eternity, but it was likely only a second or two.  In a panic I jingled my keys at it and it bolted.  I came so close to turning around and going home, but I forced myself to 'grow a set' and keep moving.  There is no denying I was worried about the fact that I am surfing the crimson wave.  Now that I've looked it up though, it's moose that love the pheromones of a woman riding the cotton pony, not coyotes.  (Do you say coyotes, or coyotees?)

Down 8 pounds over the last 2 weeks; not bad.  There is no doubt in my mind that I am feeling better for it, and I felt even better when I shopped in my own closet this morning.  I'm wearing jeans that I couldn't have fit into 2 weeks ago.  That deserves a 'hell yeah'!

The Universe loves me, btw.  I drove all the way to Vaughan Mills and found the gorgeous boots I was lusting after in my last post.  Thanks, shopping goddesses; my prayers came answered.

That is all.

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