Elemental

The elements.

What wonderful treats they bring the outdoor runner, biker, walker, etc. this time of year.

Frozen toes, fingers, snot.....to name a few.

I know, I know, Atlanta is in the deep South. We're supposed to be warm, and welcoming.

Tell that to my neck gater. Poor thing's exhausted from all the use she's gotten this year. Once upon a time, I'd break her out like the good wine, once in a blue moon.

Now, it is every stinking run.

I am not complaining though...I like the elements.

I like the heat. I like the freezing cold. I like running in the rain. In the snow....

Why? 'Cause it makes me feel tough. And I am not tough.

At heart, at my core? A wuss, A scardey cat wuss who'd prefer sunny and seventy, thankyouverymuch.

The elements make me feel like the badass I am not.

I take my badass where I can get it...even if it means 8 miles in freezing rain.

"Is "poopy" an adjective?"

...and other google queries.

These are the questions you find yourself asking when playing madlibs with a 5 year old.

I appreciate the lack of judgement, google.

Two things. (1) It was not her suggestion for the adjective. (It was mine. I was going for the easy laugh.)
(2) We had to google it because Mike didn't think it was an adjective. (Wrong!)

We search for a lot of random things on the internets.

Were their children on the Mayflower? (E wanted to know. And yes, there were.)

What is the difference between the KSwiss Kona and the KSwiss Kona-C? (All me there. There's none, just looks, according to someone on a random forum. Momma needs new running shoes and zappos was all out of my faves, the Konas.)

How many calories in a clementine? (Mike. He's apparently counting calories.)

What the hell this says about us, I have no idea, perhaps we are weight conscious, fecal oriented, history buffs who enjoy a run now and then?

Okay, sure.

Tis the season

It is not my fault if this post makes zero sense and is full of typos.

I am currently under two year old attack. She's trying to lure me into a wrestling match by hitting me with a blanket and head butting me. Okay, she's stopped the attack to show me the "boogie" on her hand, and ugh, now she wiped it on my shirt. Yes, MY shirt, not her shirt.

Anyone want a hug?

If you don't get covered in snot, then can offer you one of the many germs that my children carry?

I am sure my shirt has them in spades. (Being covered in boogers and all.)

Yes, tis the season for being sick. The girls, yes, of course. There has to be a patient Zero. But, I still catch everyfreakingthing that they bring home from school. Sinus infection, stomach flu, fifths disease...check. Check. And check. (And not just me this year, my filthy animals have successfully infected my mom, brother in law, each other, and the contractor working for my mom so far.) Do not talk to us until April. I promise it is a bad idea.

Cobbling together any consistency in my running has been um, challenging so far this winter. (It's not even technically winter yet, is it?)

Oof.

Life Lessons

#68 -- Teaching yourself to read.

No big deal. Just find a quiet, sunny place and an Elmo book. All set.

#154 -- The Armpit Fart.

What else are daddies for?