An Ice Cube With a Dream

It's Monday. It's cold. It's hard to get motivated to exercise on mornings like this, but I sucked it up and got ready to get my biscuits on the treadmill.

I have a treadmill ritual involving attire, shoes, and beverage. The attire is layered because I live in the "wear layers or die" section of America. The shoes are always, always, always Nike. The beverage is always, always, always water with ice. Because I'm fancy that way.

Just to prove that I'm not that big a creature of habit (though I really am) I change up listening to my iPod or watching tv while on the treadmill. This morning felt like a tv workout.

I got my usual water container out of the cabinet, quietly relishing in the fact that it was clean. I look for small victories throughout the day. It's my way of coping with winter. And jiggly thighs. With a flourish, I turned and pirouetted to the freezer to fill my water container with ice. Yes, I flounce about my house. I believe that flouncing burns more calories than trudging. I have emailed Dr. Oz for confirmation of this fact, but I haven't heard back from him yet.

I get ice out of my freezer about ten times a day with few instances. Oh sure, the occasional ice cube will fail to fall into my cup and will go skittering across the kitchen floor. That's about as eventful as it gets. Until today.

Today a rogue ice cube dared to go where no ice cube has gone before. This piece of ice dared to dream. It wanted out of the freezer (who wouldn't? It's flipping cold in there), but it didn't want to do the standard slide-across-the-floor-been-done-to-death-dance. Hons, this cube had a dream.

The cube slipped out of my hands and slid down the v-neck of my navy blue Old Navy fleece sweatshirt which was layered over my hot pink v-neck Old Navy layering tank top and landed in my cleavage. An ice cube on my bare, already-broken-out-in-goose-bumps-because-it's-65-degrees-in-my-house-right-now skin. Trapped and melting in my sports bra (surprisingly not Old Navy but Champion for Target - a lovely product line). The cube with a dream was currently melting between my smooshed boobs. 

Well, it would have been melting if I generated enough body heat in the winter to actually melt something. But I don't. So there it sat. Until I howled like a basset hound whose food dish is empty and flipped that hunk of ice onto the kitchen floor. 

I stood there in my kitchen, heart racing and gasping for air after my near death experience, staring at that ice cube. I have to give kudos to that ice cube. It was an ice cube with a dream.

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