If you’re new to my little slice of reality, something you should know is that I’m 99.9% certain a zombie apocalypse looms in the future of humanity.

There’s all ready a parasite that can control its host, and with the huge advances in medical science, it seems to me that it’s only a matter of time before someone with a God complex fucks up and BOOM!

Zombocalyse.

HH (my other half, life partner, partner in crime) has joked that the only reason I keep him around is to slow the zombies down while I make my getaway. “I’m big, slow, and intelligent. They’re going to want the meat and my delicious brain.”

He plans to lose some weight and get fit so that he can outrun my ass when the zombie explosion occurs.

Now I’m one of those naturally skinny chicks. The only time I’ve been ‘overweight’ is during pregnancies. I have a high metabolism, but lead a mostly sedentary lifestyle. I don’t eat unless I’m hungry, because I don’t need much fuel at my current activity level.

I wouldn’t make a good meal for zombies, but I’d be an acceptable snack. My IQ is a little higher than his, so my brain is probably just that much more delicious.

We’ve decided that 2012 is our year to prepare for the Zombocalypse/get into the habit of regular exercise for better health for the rest of our lives.

Whichever comes first.

Face it, a LOT of people are suddenly going to become super interested in going on a diet and exercising their asses off when the Zombocalypse happens.

The alternative is getting eaten. Is there a better incentive than survival?

On the completely serious side of things, the only regular exercise I currently partake of involves feeding horses multiple times a week, riding my own horse when the weather permits and I feel like it, and of course, my paper route.

I’m totally your girl if you want grenades or sticks of explosives thrown out of a moving vehicle with any degree of accuracy. Remember that.

The rest of the time (most of the time), my ass is firmly planted in a super comfy chair in front of my computer.

We figure I’ll put inches on, because a regular increase in physical activity will require more fuel, and should result in building muscle mass.

I’m 41 years old, and have a lingering issue with my back, thanks to a freak injury over a year ago. Basically, I pulled a bone out of place at the back of the pelvic girdle. FYI: That hurt more than giving birth, people.

Currently, I can’t do a lot of bending, lifting, carrying, or standing and walking without living through a few days of physical regret for being so adventurous. Forget running or jumping.

I am NOT going to be HH’s getaway distraction, people.

My goals are to get fit, build upper body, stomach, and back strength. It will only help my back in the long run, though the short run may convince me it’s better to be a zombie snack.

There’s likely to be some off the wall conversations to relate here, because when HH, the girl (our daughter), and I do things together, the weirdness dial can end up turned on to the ‘Full Blast’ mark.

While I have no intention of this blog becoming all about fitness, I will make regular posts about my progress.

Wish me luck. I don’t wanna be a zombie snack.

One of the things I spend writing earnings on: my horse!

Her registered name is ‘OH WHAT A BABE’, and her barn name is Sugarbabe, or Shug for short. Her Christmas present was a new winter blanket, which came in yesterday:

 Now she’s a bright, cheerful spot on cloudy days!

AKA NinjaChi, AKA Blaze, AKA ‘that furry little bastard you’ve spoiled completely rotten’. Heh.

You mean I have a forever home?

Blaze was a Christmas puppy for someone who decided they didn’t want him after all, and he ended up in our local pound. Fortunately, HH and the girl decided to visit the pound the day before he was scheduled to be put down, and he was (I quote HH here) “Taking no crap off the other dogs in his kennel”, so they brought him home.

I love this place!

We already had a pack of three, so the ‘taking no crap’ thing was kinda important. He had no problem settling in.

He was meant to be the girl’s buddy, but she was still in school, and HH likes to work at night, so guess what? Yep, he attached himself to me, because I was the one around most while his little shiny peepers were open.

I haz lasers in my eyes!

So I began to spoil him totally rotten, because he’s small and cute and funny and thinks I’m his mom. The lasers in his eyes was an unexpected development.

So was learning that he had a plan for world domination, which led to his being given the nickname ‘The Chihuahulhu’.  There are a few people who believe him to be top notch Evil. 0_o

In short, he’s 12 lbs of sheer awesome badass, and don’t you forget it!

Perro with a Sombrero