Spring...Sprung!

This photo brought to you by new beginnings and a farewell to the bad decisions of the weekend. The new week is a clean slate...let's see how long it takes me to muck it up. Start your watches!

The Wii Fit is NOT my friend.

Okay. We got a Wii for Christmas (thank you, Momstone!) It's awesome -- we played the bowling game as a family for about an hour, until Maggie could not handle her brother's competitive tendencies any longer and had a series of meltdowns. Up until that point, we were like the Waltons. Or the Ingalls. Or the Cleavers. Or maybe the Simpsons.

The next day, Paul and I went out to procure presents for Maggie's birthday (she turned four two days after Christmas) and, while we were out, Paul accompanied me on my very first trip to a game store (some might say "virgin trip"; there seem to be a lot of them -- destined to stay that way -- in those places). Well. We came away with a winter sports game that, unbeknownst to me (because I forgot to read the package) requires a Wii Fit balance board. Now, the smart person would return the game. I am not that person. I am the person that went to nine -- nine -- different stores in two days searching for what appears to be the most popular game of the Christmas 2008 season: the Wii Fit. I sure do wish I was that smarter person and not, well, you know. Me.

Sunday morning at 8:00am, Paul and I succeeded. We joined the gaggle of middle-aged women with looming resolutions -- only 14 games in the store and we got one. Home again. Later Sunday, Charles took Paul and Maggie out. (After Charles laughed at me doing the Wii figure skating until I thought he might soil himself.) I opened the Wii Fit disc. Oy.

The Wii Fit assesses your body and assigns a Wii age. I do not like this. The Wii Fit did its thing, sending me through a brief series of balance tests. It asked if I fall down a lot. It did not give me the opportunity to reply. It told me that I am 57 in Wii years. I hate that thing. But, I figured, why not give the exercise thing a go. I went for about 45 minutes (it asked me if I wanted to take a rest -- I noticed that no rocking chair was offered, or a shawl for that matter.) I got to the running part. The Jeff Tweedy Mii that I created (I am working on the entire band. And yes, thank you, I do realize that's a little weird.) passed me -- twice. Thank goodness it didn't ask me any questions (Paul has noticed that I seem to forget a lot of small words lately.)

You would think that I'd had enough humiliation for one day (obviously not, since I'm telling you all about it)... But noooo... After we watched The Big Lubowski last night, Charles stayed up to try out the Wii Fit. His Wii age? 34. Thirty-four! 34! And when I told him about the falling down comment, all he could say was "Well, you do."

Humiliation. Complete. Total. Stunning.

In other news, Paul's got a blog.

The DMV is my friend.

pricklygirl is getting old(er) and had to go renew her license. This follows the indignity of being informed that -- after age 40 -- a documented eye exam is required. Needless to say, it's been a lot of fun in the pricklygirl household (even more than usual) of late.

Well, here's a tale that will warm even the coldest of hearts. I saw a great optomistrist Sunday -- no appointment (he had some stuff to say about my background and age-related eye stuff, but I'm choosing to ignore that for now.) Picked out glasses Sunday afternoon and was told 10-14 business days to get them, though sometimes they arrive in less time. Tuesday was notified that glasses were in. Wednesday, went to DMV armed with papers, work, iPhone, etc, expecting a loooong wait. They were sooooo nice. Twenty minutes later, I was out the door, renewed license in hand.

The moral? Get your eyes tested. You probably do need a new prescription. Get those new glasses. Go to the DMV. You'll be happy you did.

This heartwarming tale has been brought to you by notions of age-related responsibility. Notice I said "age", not "maturity".