So I was finally able to get back to running again today without my leg having some tingly, nervy, crampy attack. So far so good. I didn't push it, so I should be fine to go again on Wednesday.
Last night I played Risk with the men. It was horrible. I thought I was going to be all slick and dominate North America and just ease my way on through to dominating everything. I had a plan in my head, I guess you would say. Then Dear Sir decided to spread his misery all over Asia and battle me through Alaska. I have to say, usually I am a good sport about this kind of stuff, but I was so angry. I had a plan, you know? So I said, "I'm sorry, I am done. I can't play this anymore. I am really pissed off."
"Really?" Dear Sir said, a bit shocked.
I sat there for a minute and thought about how ridiculous I was being. I stared at the board for a bit. I looked at Dear Sir. He had the attack dice in hand. I would not be able to handle it if he were to start attacking Canada next.
"Yep, I am done."
"Well, I guess we're all done with the game then," he said, a bit relieved. I think he wanted to read a book anyway.
Instead of reading a book he cut the Oldest's hair (he now looks like he is in the Army) because he will soon have glasses and frankly, the hair he had before would have been horrendous. I call it hair of steel. It is insane trying to cut that stuff.
The Oldest does look a lot better. The daughter (who is five) noticed it this morning.
She yelped at the breakfast table. "Your hair!"
"Yep, Dad cut it."
"How does it feel on your pillow? Nice?" she asked.
I thought that an odd question. I guess my kids don't get out much.
I played Memory with the daughter just a minute ago and first she beat the tar out of me. She was freely telling me how she is the master and would giggle and taunt me. By the second game I finished her off and slammed my huge pile of matches in front of her while telling her that I was the master this time. She laughed and then she took her own stack and flung it all over my treadmill and the floor around it. She started weeping.
I guess we are all poor sports.