Sunday morning reflections

According to "Waist Management" the book written about/for YOU, every individual should maintain 30 minutes of walking a day. These folks aren't counting the steps I take from the couch to the fridge, to the car, to the door and back again. "They" insist that these 30 minutes should be taken consecutively, if possible.
I'm ashamed to admit it, but for the past year, 30 minutes of consecutive minutes only occurred while I slept, and even then, my dreams didn't take me far enough away. To say I was stressed is to say Yogi Bear likes picnic baskets. Once upon a time, Yogi Bear was funny and I cared about his quest for the picnic basket but I don't any longer. I'm tired of the routine. I'm tired of his inability to get along with the Ranger and I want to know why Boo Boo hasn't smacked him upside the head.
Since Root Beer joined us, though, 30 minutes and more, a day, have been dedicated to walking.
These five, 10, 30 and 60 minute excursions are giving me the time I need to "walk off" whatever idiocy that can't be sorted out by a cold beer and an episode of Corner Gas.
Yet it isn't just me benefiting from walking the dog. Luke's doctor was pretty direct when he told Luke and me that Luke had to get more exercise.
Now, after Root Beer, and because of some maybe-not-long-enough long distance walking, Luke may not be getting the full 30 minutes - he somehow seems reluctant to wake-up at 6 a.m. to hit the trails. He is still getting 20 minutes, minimum. And these are paying off with a happier kid and a serene and calm mother (okay, that laugh is for you that really know me).
I can't say everything about having a dog has been easy, but I no longer relate my life to a Hanna Barba cartoon. I'm okay with Yogi Bear. He can have his picnic basket, and eat it through, too.
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Stay tuned for the next posting where we will explore the dangers of Listerine, the reasons why dogs like stuffed animals, when not to call the vet and much, much more.