The First Official Blog-Off

For months now the masses have been pounding me with requests to start a blog.  Ok, by masses I mean Mr. Robusto and his padre.  By pounding requests I mean a friendly reminder every 4.6 days.  You get the point.  Before I go any further....No, Mr. Robusto is not of Hispanic descent.  Don't get it twisted, he absolutely wishes he was a Mexican wrestler.

My one and only is on the right.

He also manages to make every accent sound like his celebrity man-crush, Nacho Libre.  But sadly, he just 100% Americana Robusto.  Now that we've cleared that elephant out of the blog, hopefully my in-box won't be flooded with that ever present question. 

You might find yourself wondering, "How did these two amazing kids find each other in this crazy mixed up world?"  Well, that song goes a little something like this....The Beginning.

Whew!  Still with me?  While you were reading that, I was busy answering all the phone calls for my Pulitzer Prize nomination.  I believe more than one critic used the word "stellar" for that post.


Last night in bed, I proposed this to Mr. Robusto...A blog-off!  You read it here first!  I may trademark the term.  In my very blissful two plus years as Mrs. Robusto, I have realized that Senor Robusto and I have very different versions of how certain things transpired here at the pad or in our day to day happenings.  He has a charming way of "enhancing" his version.  This got me thinking, since the hubs has an uber popular blog himself (you can find that here) we should each use our tell our version of the same story.  We'll let our followers vote and determine which version they think most reflects the truth.  Save our families from having to hash it out.  I'm thinking this could be a once a week thing.  I don't want to overwhelm the senses.  But honestly, since I don't have any followers yet I'm keeping it at once a week to protect my pride.  


Here's the scoop...


I hate exercise, but I can tell time.  I wasn't aware that exercise minutes are longer than normal minutes.  Guess it is kind of like washing machine minutes?  5 weeks ago Mr. Robusto and I, in an attempt to be less "robust" started the couch to 5k program.  We run around our hood like "Just do it" commercials and feel pretty good with ourselves when we are finished.  I'm sure all you fit-eez are familiar with this idea, but for those of you who sway more toward the "run only when being chased" mindset, click here to catch yourself up on the program.


Now I'm the first to admit that my run is probably what most might consider a prelude to a fall, but nonetheless my heart rate stays pumped.  Last week, we started Week 4 of the program.  The hubs wears the watch because have enough on my plate with making it through alive.   Each session starts with a 5 minute warm-up walk.  I have noticed over the last few weeks that the 5 minutes has gradually lessened to what I feel is about 4 minutes 15 seconds.  I realize I'm not the one wearing the watch, but everyone knows womankind can just sense things.  Intuition if you will.  Can't agrue that fact.  I didn't say anything as my warm-up walks slowly diminished because I'm a go-with-the-flow kinda gal.  Where I start to take issue is the disappearance of seconds in the walking parts of the program.  I'm almost certain that the hubs takes the seconds off the walking and tacks them to the running portion because he's feeling froggy.  Can't prove it, it goes back to that intuition thing.  To keep him honest, I'm going to secretly wear a stop watch one day.  He won't know when....He won't know how...but he will be busted!


So head on over to the hub's blog to see how he charms his way out of this one!