A Quote by Ingrid Weir

I used to dream of a week-long beach vacation with white sand under my toes... right now, I'd settle for 48 hours at a Motel 6 with some Lysol and a UV lamp. — © Ingrid Weir
I used to dream of a week-long beach vacation with white sand under my toes... right now, I'd settle for 48 hours at a Motel 6 with some Lysol and a UV lamp.
At some point I go back on the sand to get my sand legs. Because it takes a good month for my legs to catch up with everything, with the displacement and all that stuff. So right now we're training on the beach six days a week for practice, and that's generally about two and a half hours. And then I'm doing pilates three times a week.
There are more stars known to exist right now than the total number of all the grains of sand on every beach in the entire world. With those kinds of odds, it would seem downright naive for someone to go to a beach in, say, some out-of-the-way inlet in Baffin Bay, stoop to pick up only one tiny grain of sand, and declare that that grain alone was the only place where life could exist.
I'm suggesting that, until America takes care of its debt, untangles the housing mess and gets unemployment under control, we all commit to working six days a week. Yep, move the standard 35-40 hour work week right up to 48 hours.
In the technology industry, a 48 hour work week would be, for most, a vacation.
I try to balance it out on the whole. Being a mum is always the priority. Next, it's taking care of yourself. Right now, I get to only work two days a week - it's a dream. I can't imagine how hard it is for mothers who work 40 hours a week.
Can I just make a special request in the magic lamp? Can we get, like, Netanyahu or, like, Putin in for 48 hours, you know, head of the United States?
I wish there were 48 hours in a day and 14 days in a week.
We run on the beach some days, and others, we run hills behind the gym. We also do several hours of grappling each week as mixed with some intense cardio in the ring.
I'm used to a very busy schedule. Right now it revolves around training and preparing for Nationals in January. I'm usually at the rink from 9 a.m. - 1 p.m. and then I attend public school for two hours, three times per week.
My first feeling was a wild desire to drive a stake in the sand and claim the place for myself. The beach was white as salt, and cut off from the world by a ring of steep hills that faced the sea. We were on the edge of a large bay and the water was that clear, turquoise color that you get with a white sand bottom. I had never seen such a place. I wanted to take off all my clothes and never wear them again.
I got a nice nine-month vacation living on the beach collecting sand dollars, and I really got to reflect and realize that in entertainment, you can definitely go too far.
If retirement means laying on a beach and rubbing coco butter on your stomach, about 48 hours of that will be enough for most people. You'll want something new.
There's no there. That elusive 'there' with the job, the beach house, the dream, it's not out there. There is here. It's in you... right now.
I used to work about 100 hours a week; now it's about 70. But 40 hours? Forget about it. Either you're all in, or your not.
I did host the Jim Rome show with Jerry Ferrara for three hours when he was on vacation. Three hours is a long time. Think about how long that is. It was tricky, but it was a great experience.
I’m going to lie this one right on the line, right here, right now: I’m pro big pants. Strident feminism NEEDS big pants. Really big. I’m currently wearing a pair that could have been used as a fire blanket to put out the Great Fire of London at any point during the first 48 hours or so. They extend from the top of my thigh to my belly button, and effectively double up as a second property that I can escape to at weekends. If I were going to run for parliament, it would be solely on a platform of ‘Get Women In Massive Grundie’s’.
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