+ It's cold. And I hate it. This weather is barely tolerable in the dead of winter, but tolerate it I do. And then, I fully expect days, even near weeks of this all through February. I know I'm still not in the clear when March hits--it's irritating, but not inconceivable. But April? It's April. Come on, April. Let's get our act together, put a kibosh on the wind and start the defrost. All in favor? Yes, that's what I thought.
+ I signed up for a half marathon in May. And I figured I was safe, because May is nearly summer. Not at this pace, April. I've been doing more than a fair share of my runs at the local indoor track, and it's not fun. Eight laps to the mile, means my seven mile run a few weeks ago was over 56 laps. Ouch.
+ Because it is cold, I can't run outside in the morning. And I really need to run outside in the morning. I had a nine-mile run on Saturday, and in order to make it all nine of those miles I decided it had to be down hill, which worked just fine since I've got this lovely canyon right here. Except I forgot that the first time you pull a big down hill run, it's just possible your calves might just stage a small revolt. And if your calves can sway your thighs and tushie to join in, a small revolt becomes an inability to walk. And that is what happened. Come Monday morning, my legs were having none of it, and my four-mile recovery run turned into a 2.25-mile pansy shuffle. Tomorrow was going to be my day. Except for the predicted 32-degree temperatures tomorrow morning, which are pushing my run to a hopeful Thursday--hopeful it's not 40 laps around a track. I'm looking right at you, April, and this is my stink eye.
+ The wind is howling right now, just as it's been howling all day. I'm very over it. Grr.
+ Despite the bitter cold and painful wind, this showed up at my house this morning. And after I jumped the overly-dead pickup truck in my driveway and moved it out to the road, they backed it in on a big flatbed and drove it right onto the wall. And right about lunch, it's little cousin bobcat joined the party. Currently my backyard is a mess of tracked-up grass and stacked brick. They're saying three weeks, but I'll be surprised if they're gone before summer. Not that summer is coming with any great speed at all.
+ Right before the heavy equipment showed up, the handyman dropped by. Yesterday he discovered that my kitchen sink was being held up by a wee silicon caulk strip, baffled that the sink hadn't fallen completely out of the counter. Today he fixed the sink and we went on to discuss ways to prevent my laundry room from exploding. I'd call him The Happy Fun Guy, except I'd hate for him to be offended and not return before he had a chance to fire-proof my washing machine drain pipe. I'm against all exploding laundry, no matter how deep the piles or how warm the resulting fire.
+ For the few days that promised sunshine, I got spring fever. My to-do list is long and exciting, bested only by my projects list and my list of "meals I'm gonna try." I'm feeling very home-makey. The fact that others are working around the house just means I gotta up my game.
+ Yesterday, Ian walked into the kitchen as I was making dinner, and looking into the oven declared, "I LOVE broccoli! It is my favorite! I love it!" What? And then his mother, distracted by the rest of dinner, burned all of the broccoli to a charcoal crisp. And Ian ate his anyway.
+ Tonight dinner was Fish Taco Salad--the first time I've ever tried to make any fish other than salmon. Craig declared it to rival "restaurant food" and asked why I didn't cook like this in the first years of our marriage. When asked to rate it, he gave me a "10" without a moments hesitation. A 10! My first 10 ever! I'd like to thank my mother, for teaching me how to work a stove; and that lovely sister in my last ward that gave me the cilantro-lime dressing recipe--I couldn't have done it without you; and I'd like to thank Smith's for having frozen tilapia on sale; and I'd like to thank Pinterest--how did I ever survive without you; and I'd like to thank Ian, who came into the kitchen while I was making the fish and asked, "Mom, am I gonna love this dinner?" and I said yes, and he was relieved and later had seconds--but, hey, the kid'll eat burnt broccoli, so that's not much of an endorsement--but thank you, Bee.
+ Jack, normally the voracious eater, has decided that my meals as of late are not up to par. He didn't touch the burned broccoli. And because the fish was on cabbage, he was opposed, and showed his dismay with a serious grimace and eye-roll. For that, he gets no picture.
And these are the deep and pondersome details that you've been missing about me and my life, aren't they? Glad I dropped in to share, aren't you? Yes, that what I thought.