It seems that I keep putting posts up and then taking them down because I’ve become severely self-conscious of looking like a jerk or offending a group of people.
This should not offend anyone. (Unless you’re opposed to Halloween. If you’re opposed to Halloween, LOOK AWAY!)
On Saturday evening, we took Hermione and Evil Angel to Boo at the Zoo.
(Evil Angel will eventually have vampire teeth. Her idea.)
It was very crowded, and sufficiently spooky.
After about an hour of walking around (please know that I touched a hedgehog during that hour, which is a first for me), we decided to grab a snack and head out.
My kids are just like me when it comes to food and loving food and feeling especially fond of food that has sugar sprinkled onto the top of it. Sometimes I worry that they’ll eventually share my sort of crappy relationship with food. I’ve been thinking about this a lot lately and also thinking that I need to start up with the running again. It has been five weeks since I hurt my ankle, and my ankle still hurts. It still swells up at night. I know my doctor said Eight Weeks To Recovery, but I really thought eight weeks was more for people like REAL athletes with REAL injuries—not just a fake runner lady who stumbled. I have a friend who swears that the pain doesn’t really matter. “Just run on it. Just keep running.” (She’s a Real Athlete.)
I know six people who participated in the Rock and Roll Marathon in St. Louis yesterday. I sat here at the computer and tracked them as they were running. I cheered for them as they hit important milestones. Less than ten minutes after one of my friends crossed the finish line and became a Marathoner, I choked on a cupcake. (I took a bite, and when I heard Meredith coming into the kitchen, I shoved the rest of the cupcake into my mouth. I have no idea why. And then I inhaled, and part of the cupcake went down the wrong pipe and I started coughing and the kids thought I was sneezing, so every time I hacked and wheezed, both girls screamed “BLESS YOU!!! BLESS YOU!!!” My friends are running MARATHONS, and I’m beating on my chest in an attempt to dislodge cupcake crumbs from my lungs.)
I need to fix this ankle of mine. Or else just run on it. (By the way, it’s easy to love running when you can’t run. Very easy. I’ve been loving running for five weeks now. I think it’s time to start hating it again.)