I'm a Skipper...

I skipped the River Walk this morning. Skipped as in bailed out, didn't show up, flaked, etc. not as in I skipped around the river. Although that would be a fun idea.

We should do that! I wonder how much skipping I need to do to get in my fat-burning heart rate zone? Hmm...I will find out and report back. Who's in? I bet we could cause a real stir at the river.

Maybe those Adventure BootCamp girls who hang out at the park, running stairs and lifting weights will join us. We could have a big line of skippers. I bet we'd get in the paper, or on the news.

But anyway, sorry for skipping, people! It wasn't my fault. It was the puppy's fault. Except, when you're a puppy, nothing's really your fault, is it? Being a puppy is like being a baby. You get a free pass on bad behavior until you're old enough to understand time out.

The puppy had some tummy trouble last night. It started at 3:00 a.m. and went until about 7:15 a.m. It was a long night for both of us.

The good news is, I watched that Julia Roberts/Mel Gibson movie in the middle of the night between trips to get the Swiffer to clean up after the puppy. It was pretty good. I cried at the end, like usual. The puppy was concerned for me and licked away my tears. It was the least he could do.

So, when 6:15 a.m. rolled around, I just couldn't drag myself into the car to drive to the river to walk, or skip with my friends.

How 'bout we skip up the Butte on Wednesday morning?