What about a late night cable TV show, perhaps hosted by the irrepressible Suzanne Somers, telling us about the impact on the glycemic index of a workout with the Blood Sugar Trampoline and, look, how it folds up for easy storage just about anyplace in only seconds! Call now and we'll make the first payment for you, operators standing by (though for a trampoline, I'm not sure that's a good idea). I loved the way it sounded, not only because I'm a diabetic, but also because I play one on television. Sorry, wrong disclaimer.
It turns out, not only is that NOT what she said, she has no recollection of what exactly it was she did say (I know, so how can she be so sure she didn't say it? I've long since learned to not raise that point in a discussion; she is, after all, her mother's daughter) so both of us are left to twist slowly until evenly browned.
Out walking yesterday someone passed me in a vehicle with a sticker on his back window (unless I can see the driver is a woman, I always assume it's a guy. I don't know if women have men as their default assumption) that read "New England Institute of Art." I knew it would be in Boston before I even looked it up. I think seventy percent of the buildings in Chestnut Hill are colleges. It must be magic owning a house there especially when your property tax bill arrives.
For a moment, but only just, I saw with my mind's eye a large oil painting of a lobster, covered in maple syrup wearing a Boston Red Sox ball cap and snow skis. It would make the perfect logo for the school, unless it didn't. And in light of the animation the school's students put together, maybe the duck can persuade the lobster to get into shape by working out on one of those blood sugar trampolines. woot! (Michelle did explain that one to me)