You know what’s total garbage? I’m self-imposing a week-long break from running. It’s not just garbage: it’s hot, reeking, cartoon-style-green-fumes garbage. Motivated by a healthy concern for a minor but persistent pain in one of my feet, and nervous about having waited too long before I finally switched running shoes, I figure it’s better to take a week off now when I’m only running a few miles at a time than be forced to sit down in a few months…
In one shift, I estimate I’ve contributed to the production of nearly 100 margaritas. While my boyfriend, with his “real” job with things like minutes for meetings and casual Fridays, is told to stay home, I not only get to attend work in person, but I have to. Facebook is a breeding ground for guilt and soapboxes. Friends whose opinions I respect are begging their friends to save lives by staying home. But here’s what’s happening in my world: Earlier…
This tale is one of good news and bad news. It’s one of death and destruction and also of dragons and sorcerers, minus the dragons and the sorcerers. Mostly, it’s a tale of the modern era. It begins with me, outrunning my problems without proper training to outrun anything. My friends and I committed to running in this past Saturday’s Montgomery Half Marathon. Andrew and Rebekah injured themselves during training, and I just neglected training at all. A month before…
“Everything is okay, but I’m rushing Jed to the vet right now” is how I began a phone call with Bill yesterday. And, nearly everything really was okay. Jed put up a fight when he got his toenails clipped, and his jerk pedicurist got one prettttttttty far down. Lord Google said that a good household solution was to apply cornstarch. That didn’t work. Lord Google also said to be concerned if the bleeding didn’t stop after twenty minutes. So, covered…