If I run five and a half miles today I will reach my week goal of thirty miles. Not like any of you care, but it would actually be a goal accomplished without my knee or my calf giving out, which would be so entirely cool. When I get done posting this I will get going on that. It has been nice to set a goal for myself this week (even a goal so silly as that) to get myself a little cheery about finishing something for the week.
Another thing I am excited about is that I dusted yesterday and made a batch of soap.
And I have discovered that if you have stinky breath from eating garlic and onions or anything that makes your breath reek, drink coffee and it will deodorize it. I suppose that is why EmmaSometimes always has smashing breath. Dear Sir is a big clean breath sort of person and if I stink, he tells me. I still have yet to develop a thick skin about it. I think my issues stem from my cannibalistic tendencies, but I won't go into detail. At any rate, I will no longer avoid Dear Sir when I eat spicy hummus, I will meet him head on in close up conversation right after I have a cup of coffee. Seems fair. But I will brush my teeth first. And pop a mint.
On the downside, I have discovered (but I was not surprised) that I can only do one half pull-up (as opposed to a full pull up), and I experienced some fear yesterday when I was attempting to show the Oldest how to swing on the monkey bars. I swung my way across like in grade school days, but I actually was afraid! What a wimp I am! And apparently I need to start lifting weights or something because my arms need some strength. Or else I weigh too much. I have dreams where I am trying to punch someone out and I barely put any force in it at all, I can't. In my dreams I fly but I am actually swimming too. I am wading through the air like I wade through water. I have to get a good run first before I set off too (which would seem natural for me).
And now I am sure you wanted to know all that.
You all have a good weekend, Dear Sir and I are going to do a bunch of nothing.
I think the number thirty is haunting me. Thirty miles, thirty years this year. A good friend of mine said that she will not acknowledge the number when she hits it next year because it seems too old, is not who she is inside, and by golly, it is frightening! I am not scared of thirty though. Thirty means that all that time has gone by---with what to show? And then I realize that my battle is not failure really, it is pride, and then that is what is scary. Thirty years and I am still prideful. It is funny what we expect of ourselves. I am not God, which reminds me:
Yesterday the Oldest was eating a pack of Smarties and I put my hand in it, pretending that I was going to help myself to his bounty.
"Hey---" he said.
"Gotta tithe your ten percent, boy," I said.
"YOU are NOT God!" my son said, laughing, taking off, Smarties with him.
Green Cathedral
Madness in a high-ceilinged building.
Followers
People in my Holy Place
The Professor----Formerly known as Dear Sir, my husband, the man of the house
The Oldest----Known in younger years as Mickey Mouse, and now he is embracing adulthood by being over 18.
Eraser Eater----Well-known for his old habit of eating erasers and whining about ridiculous things. Now he eats Tabasco sauce and says little in his 15 years.
The Girl---The one who is still more mature than I am at 13.
The Oldest----Known in younger years as Mickey Mouse, and now he is embracing adulthood by being over 18.
Eraser Eater----Well-known for his old habit of eating erasers and whining about ridiculous things. Now he eats Tabasco sauce and says little in his 15 years.
The Girl---The one who is still more mature than I am at 13.
8 comments:
Well, I'm sure you ran 30 miles more then me this week.
HI!!!
I do care that you ran 30 miles - I don't even walk that much in a week nor do I have the inclination to do so.
Smarties? Ours are chocolate coated candy very similar to M&Ms but M&Ms are American.
Now, not to be a smartie but was just wondering about this phrase: I dusted yesterday and made a batch of soap.
I've never made soap and rarely ever dusted. Do the 2 go together? :)
Hm... I didn't know you could make soap with dust... You are one talented lady my dear! :o)
30 miles? That's awesome! Woot!
I'll be 42 in December.
Leslee--Hey!! Long time no see!!! Great to see you are around, girly!
Carolanne---Smarties are little tart-sweet candies wrapped in plastic. When you open them up they all fall out so you have to be careful.
Yeah, I am a moron, have you noticed? I just typed and didn't think that that stupid sentence could be interpreted that way!!! HA ha!! You CAN make soap from ASH, but not dust. LOL!!! Dusting and then making soap in one day is not usual for me though. :)
Henny Penny--Thanks! :) The two actions are separate but you wouldn't know by the way I typed it!! Duh!!! Susie is going to have a field day with that one!!
December---hey I turn 30 then! No wonder we get along so well!
I still remember the first time, as an adult with children, that I tried to swing on the monkey bars. I was shocked that I couldn't do it. I did it effortlessly as a child, but my upper body strength was too small, and my butt was too big. ;-)
30 is a breeze. You could be turning 40 like me. :-) I'm actually quite pleased to be turning 40 now.
Hmm...starting somewhere...not sure where, feeling lost in all this info.
Oh...the pull up thing, you do NOT weigh too much. You just don't exercise your arms. Because that is indeed pathetic you can only do a half of a pull up. Get busy! Snap to it woman! no one likes a woman with no pull up skills!!!!
On the 30 thing? I'd like to stab you for those comments, wait until you are 40. THEN you can whine. But I'm a little concerned that after hearing your feelings about 30 that 40 might just do you in. I rarely acknowledge it unless I need some compliments, then I go ahead and tell people my age to manipulate them into saying "oh you are NOT". I like that. Then I have to whip out my drivers license. I wonder what I will do for fun when I'm 50. Probably whip out my fake boobs.
ok that was inappropriate.
I forgot the rest of your post so I'll wrap up this commentary. Brought to you by a World for Utterly Safer Soap...WUSS
Jennifer--I know thirty is a breeze, but I though stupidly I would have a recording contract by now to be honest...thirty is a bad number with those expectations. Otherwise, I think it's cool.
It is funny how we remember how to do things we did as kids but then can't do them anymore because we are bigger!
Doozie---I had a good laugh over your Wuss comments. My arms really do lack some strength, although they are pretty strong. I just know that my lower body is what weighs the most (duh, I am almost solid muscle in my legs). I do need to work on that a bit though. I just don't have tons of interest as far as that goes. As funny as it sounds, running has made my arms toned as well---don't know how--must be from swinging them slightly to and fro in my gait. Give me some serious tips---I know you are pretty stacked up there.
By the time forty hits I will be over it. I can't wait to turn forty actually. Then, I won't care anymore and can be myself. Forty is liberating, thirty is just plain not.
I could never get excited about dusting, no matter what. Have you considered counseling?
I love running. I want to do it until I am so old that I keel over and die. I have weeney arms too. RT suggests push ups and sit ups for runners.
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