…I hate my husband and his long-ass legs. He is smoking me at running and it’s just not fair. He’s so gazelle-like and I’m so…not gazelle-like. I’m more like a gimp…um, turkey. And damn him for coming back from the trail looking like a delicate flower. Everytime I run, whether it be for 5 minutes or 1 hour, I look like holy hell. My face is bright red–and I do mean bright red–and I’m sweating like an I-don’t-even-know-what. I scare my own children.
…the wind is blowing so hard that even the dogs are freaked out. Normally they enjoy a blustery day, but I can’t even get them to go outside. I’m thinking of picking Cheyenne up at the bus stop because she just might go flying if she tries to walk down the street.
…Mia is trying to play my head off. My favorite game? Tinkerbell vs. Darth Vader. (Thanks for the extra light saber, Wyatt and Joey.) Why do I always have to be Vader? She even tells me what to say in the midst of battle: "You underestimate my powers. Surrender to the dark side. Use the force." My least favorite game? Barrell of Monkeys. Has anyone ever tried to really play that? Do you understand how hard it truly is?
…Merrick thinks he can take off walking whenever he wants and wherever he wants. He’s getting sturdier and faster and it’s absolutely unnerving. I’m spending so much time chasing after him and making sure he doesn’t crack his skull on the tile that I’m not getting anything else done. Babies are just not meant to walk until they’re at least a year old. I can only put up with one infant skull surgery per lifetime.
…Caleb promised to take me to see the X-Men Origins movie when it comes out (legally and in theaters, people) in May. I think he was inspired by the movie we watched last night ("Fireproof") and since he knows how much I just love me some Wolverine, he decided to sacrifice his precious time just so I could spend 90 minutes in dirty-mutant-Hugh Jackman heaven.
On a side note: Fireproof? Was pretty good. The get-right-with-God thing got a little old at times, but I could stomach it since I could relate to the rest of the story line eerily well, and I’m obviously not talking about pulling small children out of burning buildings.
I’m totally referring to the time I dragged a wrecked car off a train track mere seconds before being smashed to death by an oncoming freight train.
Oh, and the part about being so angry and hateful towards a person you’re supposed to love forever.
I was a little disappointed with one thing: The movie focused on the husband, which is all fine and dandy and whatnot because guys need all the help they can get when it comes to loving and caring for their PMS-y wives (and let’s face it, we ladies do have our bitchy days…or weeks…or in some cases–and I’m not naming names–ME, TONI!–bitchy years.) We know what a jerk the husband was and how he mended his ways and how his wife finally forgave him, but I would have loved some tips on how to respect and support a man even when he’s stuck in perpetual asshole mode, without turning into an ice queen myself. But then again, maybe that was where the whole prayer part came into play.
Boy, that turned out to be more than a side note.
…and finally, today, I’m looking foward to tomorrow and the weekend and some nice weather and some t-ball and some more running. I want to shave 2 whole minutes off my trail time and so help me God I’m going to do it. My reward? Personal satisfaction, gloating rights, and maybe–just maybe…a yellow iPod? I’m motivated. Maybe I could wear a kite and run in the direction of the wind…