It was one of those holidays that I shall always remember as, well, crappy. It just wasn't a good one, people. I was sick with one of my world-famous migraines stapled on top. I can't sugar coat it any more than to say that I love my new, long, pink snuggly robe and my makeup toolbox from Sephora and my new, bright orangey-red purse that is both obnoxious and fabulous. I love my new pajamas and the scarves and gloves and the new bottle of my signature scent. I love my little Buddha charm and handmade earrings from Breckenridge direct from my sister and the pink John Deere mug and teapot from my stepson. I do love the material things I received, only I don't really remember getting them at all. I don't remember actually opening them, truth be told, because I was in a complete sickness fog through Christmas Eve day and Christmas day. Complete. And. Total. Blur. 2008 is almost gone, and I've slept-walked, all ill-like, through the latter part of it. Chalk one year's festivities up to hydrocodone and phenegren. It's official. I'm just now, on December 27th, able to actually revel in the fact that it occurred.
I did manage to eat a juicy filet, my weight in pigs in a blanket, I believe, and several Christmas cookies. And, in keeping with the rest of the world's New Year's resolutions, I shall ditch the narcotics, the sugar, the fat, and get back on track tomorrow with working out.
Happy almost 2009, loyal readers. My Christmas gift to you is this old school workout for you to enjoy at your leisure today. I'm a giver like that.
