I was hijacked. Or held hostage. Or something.

I think we all need to remember that I am the victim here.  Because I'm not going to go into this at all if you are going to sit there all silent and judgey like it's never happened to you.

I was being responsible with my time.  The kids were in bed, the house clean as it could be since we ran out of dish soap yesterday and apparently you're not supposed to use shampoo even if you need the slow cooker to be clean in order to use it so you order pizza instead, effectively turning the $2 dish soap you were waiting until grocery shopping day to buy because "we don't run to the store for 'just one thing'" into a purchase of $20 in hot crust and pepperoni, and my workout done.

Brian was finished with the computer for the evening, so I could take the time and care required to work on this blog in order to keep it up to the impeccable standards I currently use for excellent blogging.  (They include:  try to spell check before you publish, and make sure each post contains the word "totally" roughly 30 times.)

Since it is Foreign Language/Fitness Friday, I needed to do some last minute research to have content that was both relevant and interesting.  (Read:  I've exhausted my vast repertoire of exercises that beguiled me when I began working out, and yet I also don't want to admit that this week I gained two pounds and use any of my spare time to dwell on my own failure.  So I was fresh out of things to write about.)  I went where everyone looking for inspiration should go:  Pinterest, the most trusted name in Genius Ideas Found on the Internet.

I promise I had every intent upon going straight way to the Health and Fitness section.  But every Pinterest visit begins on my home page showcasing all the pins of the people I follow, so I think honestly the first perpetrator person we can blame for what happened is my "friend" (who shall remain nameless)(Megan) who frequently pins the most amazing desserts on the planet.

I clicked on one little dessert pin and ended up discovering the next perpetrator my true junk food soul mate in a woman I've never met before who honestly could be my 24th sister wife solely for her love of chocolate.  Her name is Shelly, and it's one of those weird "I don't know her, no one I know knows her, but her pins are so good I should probably follow her, but not a lot of people are following her, so should I just go ahead and do it or will she think she's being stalked or something?" kind of situations.  Most people would just go ahead and follow her because that's how Pinterest works, but I was feeling a little sensitive and might tend to over-analyze things this time of year when SAD gets it's hooks under my skin and keeps me tethered with insecurity over L-AME-O things.  (And?  A titsch upset that the only remedy for SAD is sunshine, meaning that moving to Texas* is less a deep seeded desire and more of a medical necessity.)

*I totally want to move to Texas.  Brian's work has an office there.  It is warmer there.  And in Texas I wouldn't have to go through the gallons of lotion my allergy kids require during the winter.  Are there any readers that can tell me the good neighborhoods in the Dallas/Fort Worth area so I can be specific when I waste spend my time on Realtor.com?

I wanted a post full of this:

because I care about your health and helping you be an informed fitness junky.

Instead, I ended up with this:

Ghirardelli English Toffee Recipe?  YES.

and this:

Whaaa?

I was clearly defenseless when faced with the possibility of both toffee and truffles. I maintain that I was clearly hijacked.  Or held hostage.  But whatever the case, it totally wasn't my fault.  So, in conclusion, I rest my case and Happy Fitness Friday to you.