A Little of This, A Little of That

It's nice to feel like doing things again.  It's so rare for me to be the one sick, and even more so for me to be the friendly neighborhood cold-gifter - I've been thrown by it.  The treadmill and spin bike have been perfectly hospitable places to be this week.

There are only excellent things to say about the new shoes.  The kind and helpful running shop saleswoman informed me, in no uncertain terms, that when she bought them for herself (and she had credibility, as she was actually wearing them at the time), she finally broke through a minutes-per-mile barrier she'd been struggling with for a long time, and that I might want to expect the same.  Insert eyeroll, I've been running the same pace for what seems like an eternity at this point. 

I'll be damned.  She was right.  And I like running faster.  Mucho, mucho gusto.
Thank you, Mizuno, for that little box of fabulosity.
(and there will be no more cheap socks.)

The new "activewear" (meaning "wear it around town as regular clothes, don't exercise in it") shirt I've got on today has a nifty feature:  thumb holes.  Seriously.  You're going to laugh at me if you live somewhere cold, because you probably take thumb holes for granted, but Gulf Coast Girl needed to see the words "thumb holes" printed on the tag to understand what those holes in the sleeves were for.  Where have my thumbs been all morning?  I submit that there is no better place for a thumb than a thumb hole.  For years, I've wrapped my fingers around my shirt cuffs like Jennifer Love Hewitt in Party of Five...and now the cuffs stay put!  Because of thumb holes!  You have no idea how badly I wish technological advances and I were on better terms - there should be a picture right here.  Something for my to-do list.

We're making my Dad's gumbo for Thanksgiving.  This requires a trial run, to be conducted this weekend with the help of some brave (I mean, willing) subjects (um, friends).  Dad, I am so sorry in advance for what is possibly about to happen to your gumbo.  Whatever it is that goes wrong in this kitchen will not go wrong On Purpose. 

When I make things with spelt flour, I am the only person who's going to eat them.

Perhaps not the 4th cup of coffee with the decongestant chaser?  My thumbs, they shake in their little holes.

Satellite radio played Winona's Big Brown Beaver on 3 stations simultaneously this morning.  Now I can't get the theme song from Deliverance out of my head.  Not that those are the same, but you have to admit the segue's neither bad nor entirely far-fetched.  Every time I start doing something, there are dueling banjos in my head.  Which leaves me wondering whether to blame Sirius or the aforementioned coffee/decongestant cocktail.....

Until Turkis Maximus starts driving himself places, Mom's Taxi is at the ready.  Time to get on with this Thursday we've got going.  To leave you with a thought:

If you'd gone running when you started thinking about it, you'd be back by now.

Carry On

Today is one of those days when it takes a lot of reminders that there will be a time I don't feel like this.

Not that the feeling will ever be what it was...but it won't be THIS.  Yes, I talk a good game.  Yes, I've told you we're doing okay.  Understand that okay is relative.  The holidays are coming.  The anniversary of Dad's diagnosis. 

Powerlessness isn't a feeling I like.  Maybe this is the universe's way of telling me I need to learn to live with it.  Well, today the universe can kiss my ass.

If you're lost and alone
Or you're sinking like a stone
Carry on
May your past be the sound
Of your feet upon the ground
Carry on

I bought new shoes the other day.  Mizunos.  The early verdict is in, and I love them.  What I love more is the new spendy socks.  Not a blister.  It's nice to run and be able to think about things other than my feet.  Still,  I skipped a run this morning because my head and my heart were tired, and I think too much when I run, and I wanted to lie there in the dark and be there when Spidey called out to come to the Big Bed so that I could drink in his little-boy smell.  I'm finding myself more discombobulated now that I haven't put my feet on the pavement. 

So I met up with some friends
At the edge of the night
At a bar off 75
And we talked and talked
About how our parents will die
All our neighbours and wives

I want to carelessly get into a car and throw the windows open and play the music so loudly I can no longer hear the thoughts in my head.  I want to sit with a stack of books, closing one only to immediately open another.  I want the water in the shower to be so hot it leaves my skin red.  I want silence.  On the other hand, I want to be around all the people who temporarily make me forget.  And all the people who knew him, so that I can talk about him freely.  I want to stop crying for two good Goddamn minutes.

I want to run, and today I cannot.  Because it would be for the wrong reasons. 

Cause we are
We are shining stars
We are invincible
We are who we are
On our darkest day
When we're miles away
So we'll come
We will find our way home

There are two fun races coming up.  There is a little boy anxiously awaiting his fourth birthday ("Mommy, when I am four, I will eat gum.").  There are plenty of opportunities for me to get out of my head.  Maybe for the moment I'll need to be content with wiping my face, pouring another cup of coffee, and going out to buy some shoes. 

Carry on.

http://youtu.be/eQ_y-WQOU-Q