Hey, guess what's in the December issue of . . . shoot, it's not with me . . . National Geographic's Travel magazine? ZORBING! There's a big photo of someone in a Zorb and I can see that they chose the water instead of the harness. Snort. There's a wee blurb that states while this isn't one of the most dangerous things to do, it's one of the most fun.
But the real attraction is that it's hilarious to watch. Oh, what I'd give to see my hubby in a Zorb. And to let him watch me go down in o
Well, who the hell am I, really? Blogged on (don't shoot me) AOL for years, and, upon AOL-J's implosion, thought I'd move on out here with the big boys.
The journal started off as a record of my initial forays into a gym, as I tried to get fit for a trip to New Zealand -- and then a journal of the trip. Since then, it's sort of grown into a standard whatever-I-happen-to-be-thinking -about blog. I think it's best when I travel, actually, but feel free to check out five years of history (and who knows how much future).
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Hey, guess what's in the December issue of . . . shoot, it's not with me . . . National Geographic's Travel magazine? ZORBING! There's a big photo of someone in a Zorb and I can see that they chose the water instead of the harness. Snort. There's a wee blurb that states while this isn't one of the most dangerous things to do, it's one of the most fun.
But the real attraction is that it's hilarious to watch. Oh, what I'd give to see my hubby in a Zorb. And to let him watch me go down in o
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