As I walked the dogs yesterday morning, I saw through the trees ahead a buck of substantial size. I often see deer along that road, but rarely bucks. Each time I see deer (or fox, sometimes even squirrels, birds, butterflies. leaves blowing across the road) it's a struggle to keep the dogs—Mickey in particular—under control. So I swiftly crossed the dogs to the other side of the road in hopes they wouldn't notice it as we passed it by.

Naturally, that's right when Mickey saw the buck...and the second it was bounding to meet up with. I tugged the yelping dogs in line and did my best to keep moving along.

"I can tell from that yelp that your dogs have seen the buck," said a gentleman—refined and eerily akin to 60-year-old Anderson Cooper—as he stepped from behind a bush. A bush he'd been working near, plucking weeds from his yard, not a bush he'd been lurking behind for unknown nefarious reasons. I think.

Me: Yeah, he certainly did.

Gentleman (clearly in awe): Five-by-five there.

Me (thinking WTH? Size? Must have to do with size): Oh yeah? It is big. I've not seen one that large yet this year.

Gentleman: I haven't either, but those are two five-by-fives and one four-by-three.

Me (using my infinite conversational skills): Three? Wow! I only saw two.

Gentleman: Oh yeah, there's three.

Me (pulling on dog leashes and itching to move along): Wow!

Gentleman (slowly shaking his head in disgust): Yeah, two five-by-fives. And I'm a bow-hunter and there ain't nothing I can do about it.

Me (in pseudo similar disgust): Yeah, you gotta just wave as they go on by.

Gentleman (in resignation): Ha...Yeah...

Me: Well, you have a good day.

Gentleman: You, too.

The gentleman gazed across the road at the three bucks ambling toward the ridge, lust and longing palpable as he slowly shook his head.

The dogs and I moved along as I resisted the urge to shake my own head...for a very different reason, to be sure.

Photo: stock.xchng...since I didn't have my camera with me.

Today's question:

Thoughts on bucks, city hunting, or neighbors lurking behind bushes?

So ... I bought a pedometer. I've had one before but I don't think it told me the truth. All I had to do was jiggle my hips a bit and it would try to flatter me with sky-high numbers.

My new pedometer doesn't lie to me, doesn't try to butter me up with untruths. And it has nifty options that tell me not only how many steps I've taken, but how those steps convert to miles, how many calories I've burned, and how many of the steps were in the "moderate walking" range. Oh, and it keeps each days' numbers in memory for seven days.

"Seven days ..." (Couldn't resist.)

Anyway ... I need a pedometer because I want to know how close I get to the "10,000 steps a day" health advice.

I've never been much on exercising. I don't lead an active lifestyle. I do walk Mickey and Lyla daily. But since starting Grandma's Briefs, I've definitely noticed I'm getting blogger's butt ... and a blogger's belly to match ... big time.

Bottom line: I need to get moving. And I want to make sure I'm moving as much as necessary to have the desired effect. Hence the pedometer.

Surprisingly, the first day I wore the pedometer, I came pretty darn close to 10,000 steps. My daily walk clocks in at nearly 3,000 steps. And it scores in the "moderate walking" range because I don't just walk it, I march it. To a military-style marching song. With words.

At risk of making you all think I'm a wacko -- if you don't already -- here's my daily march:

"I don't know but I've been told. (I don't know but I've been told.)
Mickey and Lyla are gonna get old. (Mickey and Lyla are gonna get old.)
I don't think that it will be. (I don't think that it will be.)
Cuz they go on daily walks with me. (They go on daily walks with me.)
Stay young. (Stay young.)
Not old. (Not old.)
All the way home. (All the way home.)
Five, four, three, two, one ... We're done!

All at a fast, four-count beat. Shouted. In my head. (I'm not THAT wacko, to be marching and shouting out loud all around the neighborhood. Although Jim's convinced if I did it aloud, the dogs may fall in and we'd be quite the spectacle. Maybe even end up on YouTube. To which I say: Uh, no. I'll keep my marching song to myself, thank you very much.)

So my marching walk gets me about 3,000 steps. I fit in the other 7,000 the first day by doing my daily doings -- adding a few quick jogs in place along the way to amp up the count, much to Jim's amusement. (I told him "Thank God we've been married nearly 30 years! I could NOT do such things with a new mate!" One of the perks of longtime marriage, I readily admit.)

The first day, I hit 10,307. By 9 p.m. Which was good because I'd told Jim I would not be going to bed until I hit 10,000.

Converted by my nifty new pedometer, 10,000 steps is four miles, at my average stride. If 10,000 steps (four miles for me) supposedly maintains one's weight, my goal now is to walk FIVE miles a day in order to lose the blogger's butt and belly. Which means I gotta add about 2,500 more steps to my day.

The second day I had my pedometer, I didn't wear it. I knew in advance that most of my day would be spent sitting in the car driving to my mom's then sitting at the table eating the Coldstone Creamery cupcakes I bought her and my sister in honor of their birthdays. (Happy birthday, Mom and Debbie!) No use wearing the pedometer for such limited activity.

The third day (the day I'm writing this) I marched a little farther with Mickey and Lyla, traipsed up and down the billions of stairs in the house and yard a little more than usual. I figure one or two whirls around the yard each day (it's a big yard,) and I'll be at my goal.

Now I just need to get some of those groovy New Balance shoes that work the butt and thighs while you walk. (Not the funky "rolling, rolling, rolling" Skecher ones.) My blogger butt and belly will be gone in no time!

Question is: How well can I march while donning butt-working -- and balance-threatening -- workout shoes?

I'm crossing my fingers that the answer isn't that I can't, that I actually end up falling and busting not only my butt, but a leg or two in the process.

For if that happens, I certainly won't have much use for my nifty new pedometer.

Today's question:

How many steps or miles do you think you walk each day?