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My first pet (that wasn't imaginary) was a cat. When I was about 7 years old, friends of the family brought over a new litter of kittens in search of a good home. They were frisky and fuzzy, and with their little claws of needles, they scurried up our living room drapes. Unable to reverse that maneuver, we had to peel each kitten off like Velcro, which only enhanced their cuteness.
From the display on the curtains, my sister and I picked our favorite, much the same as picking a lobster out of a tank. We named her Smokey for her different shades of gray, dressed her in a tiny collar, and provided her with little toys and tiny bits of food. We were now officially pet people.
Over the years our pets consisted of a guinea pig, an assortment of fish, my sister's three-legged bush-dwelling cat, and the thorn in Smokey's side, my stepdad's cocker spaniel. I grew up, moved out of the house, and continued to be a pet person. I now have two dogs and two step-cats. The cats came along when I married Chris, and being the wicked stepmother that I am, they are confined to the outdoors. They have bad manners and poor attitudes, and for their exercise (and my amusement), I let my Dog #2 chase them around the yard.
Besides the furry creatures and underwater breathers, I have adopted a variety of pets that need no water, no special toys, and generate no vet bills. Some of them are bigger than others and some are much more obvious. I have too many to name, but yet they take up no room on the couch while watching a movie. They are my pet peeves.
It's trying to pull in to a parking space that is occupied by the last shopper's cart; it's the weak garbage bag that leaks all the way to the Dumpster, the cigarette tossed out the car window ahead, and the distracted driver on their cell phone. These are all pets of mine that make up my brood of peeves. But they aren't the biggest.
In our world of super-sizing, jumbo, extra, and “Biggie,” it should be no surprise that such a large amount of television commercial time is devoted to weight-loss programs and exercise gadgets. If we “sign up now,” we'll get a tote bag, a how-to book or some additional boxed meals guaranteed to undo the damage of years of Biggie.
With the right meal plan, support system and/or hip-twisting contraption, we can join the list of satisfied customers and celebrity spokespeople that offer their heartfelt testimonials. They are now able to run in a bikini, play shirtless football, and enjoy what life has to offer skinny people — something they were unable to do carrying those extra pesky pounds. And you know what they say, “If I can do it, YOU can do it.”
Really? You, there, on the television, with the “results not typical” asterisk on the bottom of my screen, you mean to tell me you are such a pathetic dieter that you've set the bar so low, it's impossible for me to fail? You promise?
The truth is everyone is motivated in different ways. If a skinny celebrity being paid to endorse dehydrated, boxed meals doesn't inspire you, how about a pancake breakfast after a hike or a run with some friends? Make a goal of running a race at the end of the summer and have T-shirts printed to memorialize your group's hard work. It's the T-shirt, not the TV spokesperson, that will remind you, you CAN do it.
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Elizabeth Schnittker and her husband, Chris, own and operate Running Tracks, the valley's specialty running store, located with Single Tracks on the circle in downtown Fruita. Elizabeth takes advantage of pancake breakfasts as often as she can, and if she can do it, you can too. Elizabeth and Chris welcome your questions and comments at rfrdepo@aol.com.
From the display on the curtains, my sister and I picked our favorite, much the same as picking a lobster out of a tank. We named her Smokey for her different shades of gray, dressed her in a tiny collar, and provided her with little toys and tiny bits of food. We were now officially pet people.
Over the years our pets consisted of a guinea pig, an assortment of fish, my sister's three-legged bush-dwelling cat, and the thorn in Smokey's side, my stepdad's cocker spaniel. I grew up, moved out of the house, and continued to be a pet person. I now have two dogs and two step-cats. The cats came along when I married Chris, and being the wicked stepmother that I am, they are confined to the outdoors. They have bad manners and poor attitudes, and for their exercise (and my amusement), I let my Dog #2 chase them around the yard.
Besides the furry creatures and underwater breathers, I have adopted a variety of pets that need no water, no special toys, and generate no vet bills. Some of them are bigger than others and some are much more obvious. I have too many to name, but yet they take up no room on the couch while watching a movie. They are my pet peeves.
It's trying to pull in to a parking space that is occupied by the last shopper's cart; it's the weak garbage bag that leaks all the way to the Dumpster, the cigarette tossed out the car window ahead, and the distracted driver on their cell phone. These are all pets of mine that make up my brood of peeves. But they aren't the biggest.
In our world of super-sizing, jumbo, extra, and “Biggie,” it should be no surprise that such a large amount of television commercial time is devoted to weight-loss programs and exercise gadgets. If we “sign up now,” we'll get a tote bag, a how-to book or some additional boxed meals guaranteed to undo the damage of years of Biggie.
With the right meal plan, support system and/or hip-twisting contraption, we can join the list of satisfied customers and celebrity spokespeople that offer their heartfelt testimonials. They are now able to run in a bikini, play shirtless football, and enjoy what life has to offer skinny people — something they were unable to do carrying those extra pesky pounds. And you know what they say, “If I can do it, YOU can do it.”
Really? You, there, on the television, with the “results not typical” asterisk on the bottom of my screen, you mean to tell me you are such a pathetic dieter that you've set the bar so low, it's impossible for me to fail? You promise?
The truth is everyone is motivated in different ways. If a skinny celebrity being paid to endorse dehydrated, boxed meals doesn't inspire you, how about a pancake breakfast after a hike or a run with some friends? Make a goal of running a race at the end of the summer and have T-shirts printed to memorialize your group's hard work. It's the T-shirt, not the TV spokesperson, that will remind you, you CAN do it.
------------------------------------
Elizabeth Schnittker and her husband, Chris, own and operate Running Tracks, the valley's specialty running store, located with Single Tracks on the circle in downtown Fruita. Elizabeth takes advantage of pancake breakfasts as often as she can, and if she can do it, you can too. Elizabeth and Chris welcome your questions and comments at rfrdepo@aol.com.
