Finally some sunshine in Chicago!
It's been dreary and grey for at least the last four days.
I had my usual Friday morning of getting up and going to yoga, picking up Starbucks on the way home, and then grabbing Harlow for a quick run.
And by usual, I mean today was my first day ever doing this, and by "run" I mean "walk."
But it sounds so nice to pretend this is routine doesn't it?
I am still pretty new to yoga.
But I actually really like it.
I like the calming feeling it gives me, I know this might come as a shock to some, but sometimes I can be a little "intense" or "high strung."
And I sweat more doing Vinyasa than I ever have on a treadmill, so for those of you naysayers who don't think yoga is a workout... well then I must be insanely out of shape because my muscles are more sore than ever after just three classes.
The only problem is my yoga mat...
Besides the ugly flowers (it was the cheapest mat at Nordstrom rack, judge me!) you'll also notice the peculiar square cut out of the bottom...
One day I came home from work and found it like this.
So either Harlow chewed a perfect square in the mat, or our dog walker cut out a perfect square.
I don't know if I should be pissed or incredibly impressed.
Neither option really makes mush sense to me.
I haven't bought a new one just because I find it so amusing. (and because I'm cheap.)
After yoga I took Harlow to the dog park for a little playtime.
And all was going quite well until some little gang bangers from the high school next store told me to
"get yo dumb *** dog on a motha ****** leash."
Oh hells no.
I've got this problem, where if people start talking poorly to me, I can't just be quiet and not say anything.
It's always been this way.
I don't ever going looking for verbal fights, that's just ridiculous.
But if someone is rude enough to speak to a stranger in that manner, I have to say something back.
It's just my nature. And they need to learn manners, damn it.
Now I'm not very big, per say...
And I probably didn't necessarily look very tough today
dressed in my yoga attire with a nice red scarf around my neck, my blonde hair in a high bun,
but I pranced right over to those thugs and said
"Excusssse me? What did you say?"
And this is the time when I need to say to myself,
I'm not in Nebraska anymore... I'm not in Nebraska anymore.
This is Chicago. Do you know how many people were shot last weekend alone?
14.
Probably. I have no idea, I made that number up.
But I know a lot of people get killed down on the soufside.
Point of the matter, I need to check myself.
They ever so rudely told me to leash my dog.
Who knew gangs were so proactive about Chicago leash laws?
So I told them they needed to leash themselves.
Jk.
They looked a little scary, I doubted the tear tattoo I noticed under one of their eyes was a tear of gratitude or happiness...
So I very quickly replied "he's fine."
And then we ran away.
And we ran right into this guy.
Meet Sammy.
Thugs don't mess with Sammy.
He is 163 lbs. I feel like this picture doesn't do him justice, however.
I could saddle Sammy up and ride him in a street parade.
This guy was huge. And soooo lovable.
I love big doggys.
To give you a better of idea of Sammy's size,
here he is being chased by a doberman and a pit/lab mix.
And that's been my Friday thus far.
Hope yours is just as exciting.
XOXO-
Snoop.
