I was innocently playing hopscotch while my children were taking a nap. Suddenly, from out of nowhere, Sleeping Mommy came charging! My marker was, like, mid-throw to #5 when I saw her running… right at me! Hop one, hop two… and run, Jenny, run!!! I headed for the nearest tree. On my fifth circle around the tree, I tripped and fell on the hose the kids left out from last summer. Thud! Before I could get up, she slapped me on my clumsy butt and hollr’d (she’s from Oklahoma, you know). “Tag! Yer It!” Then she made me sit in the “mush pot” while she told me what “It” is supposed to do:
Happy 20th Anniversary of your 16th Birthday, My dear friend!
***Before I begin, please go visit her… It’s her birthday and she came home to a robbed house today. Plus, I have posted pictures of her from the 80’s and early 90’s… She is really gonna need some love now :)***
I love you, please don’t kill me… Or write me a detention for walking on the grass, like that one time…
I was about 3, and you were much older and mature at 4 when we first met. Did I ever thank you for taking me to Disneyland with you? Weren’t we 5 in this picture? Maybe it was just you. You ARE older than me… And I’m the dufus kid actin’ like a blow fish. You have always been so tolerant.
Come again? How’s a kid supposed to answer that one? Even a 2-year-old sees the problem with that line of questioning.
Talk about setting up your kid for failure. Mom – 0; Kid – 0. The perfect example of a lose-lose situation. And yet another example of my stellar parenting skillz.
She digs in her iPhoto library. She finds “that one picture” that was “so funny” at that one certain time, at that one certain place… And even-though it’s not as funny as she remembered, she still posts it… You see this is what a bloggeress does when the camera isn’t working, when the ideas won’t come together, when spreading linky love requires too many steps, and her obsession with fulfilling her self-imposed challenge to blog everyday of 2008 trumps sanity.
Why was this picture so funny to me? I kinda felt like the radio was sticking it’s “tongue” out at me. You know the scene: “inanimate object projects human behavior”. That’s funny stuff, right… funny. Heh. SNL should hire me. I am Legend so Comedy.
For some reason, this week wore me out. I’m panting just thinking about it. Not really, I just wrote that for effect :) Anywho. This week was not particularly intense “training wise” nor did I push myself, but I can just tell my body is all, “Girlfriend. Whut iz UP!” Either I am fighting off something, or I just didn’t get the rest I need, or maybe I didn’t make the best food choices as far a recovery goes. Or all of the above.
This coming week I intend to focus on taking my vitamins, and hormones. Yes. I take hormones (specifically, progesterone). Don’t freak out. I have an engaging story to share, but I am focusing on training event readiness in this post, not on adrenal fatigue (a little teaser for you) nor how important healthy hormone balance can be. Continue reading ‘Training SmackDown – Week 4′
I know Internets, I’m teasing you. You just want me to get down to business (heh), don’t you… Well, for those of you who need a little multimedia… watch this book trailer:
Due to technical difficulties, the picture I took of my fridge today cannot be posted in time to meet the “Friday” goal. Rest assured, the usual suspects are there – about 2 gallons of milk and that bottle of champagne is still chillin’. However, there are also 2 gallons of orange juice – a portion of which I hope to use in mimosas some day this weekend. I know, I know… yeah, right. There’s tri-tip from Costco, ready to be sorted into managable protions, and leftover yakisoba. Num. I also have a big container-ful of little tomatoes that pack a punch. Ooh, those babies are GOOD…
Good evening dear friends and faithful lurkers. May you rest well this Friday night… I am off to chase some zzzz’s, for I have an 8 mile run to tackle bright and early on the morrow.
It’s “Jenny: In Pictures”… Either click on the little purple tab up on the right, or go here… There is more info than you need to know about me. Yes, about ME. It is My blog after all. That’s why you’re here, right? Gosh.
…I wasn’t going to blog about this. And since I am not one to toot my own horn (heh, I wrote “toot”), I thought I should continue in that vain vein of humility… modesty, lowliness even.
Unbeknownst to me, my son’s shoes were in desperate shape. There were a few times he would off-handedly mention his feet were getting wet at recess. I was all, yeah… cuz he plays in the wet grass. We live in the Pacific Northwest. Wet, wet, wet… Duh.
Apparently, there was a bigger problem… An observant mother might identify the problem as: HOLES IN HIS SHOES. Not hole, but holeS. Biguns. Big and many… Talk. About. Guilt. This guilt is appropriate and called for. Look at these shoes. The child that wore these shoes has a mother. A real mother with brains and a heart… I wonder what his teacher thinks. Wait, I don’t want to know.
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