Are We There Yet?

Everyone love's a good road trip right? I know I do.

I love the the promise of adventure. I love the ride. The music. The snacks. The silly car games. The chance for long conversations. As a kid, we would drive all over California and even all the way to Santa Cruz de Las Flores (a small town in Jalisco, Mexico) in our station wagon.

The hubby and I take short and semi long road trips, living in the Bay Area means that there are lots of adventures just about an hour away.

Animal is not yet two. So far we haven't gone on too many road trips. We have taken him to visit his grandpa and great grandma. We have gone to the Aquarium, and recently the zoo. All just around an hour away.

I'm not looking forward to the possible carsickness or to having to find bathrooms (that don't make us vomit) randomly on our way somewhere.

I am however looking forward to making memories with him. To buying snacks we don't usually get (Cheetos, Slurpee's, candy bars). Playing him music we love, talking about whatever strikes our fancy, playing silly car games. Him anticipating adventure and even the unavoidable, "Are we there yet?"

Here are the top 10 road trips I can't wait to take with my little family:

10. San Francisco. There are so many things I want us to do. The California Academy of Science, Alcatraz, Fisherman's Wharf, The Exploratorium, Kid Robot on Haight and Ashbury.

9. Oakland. To watch the Oakland A's play before (fingers crossed) they move to San Jose.

8. Big Sur. The beach, the hike, the beauty.

7. San Diego. The incredible zoo, Sea World, and Lego land.

6. Los Angeles. The Museum of Natural History, Universal Studios, Disneyland, Magic Mountain and Knottsberry farm.

5. San Juan Bautista. I want to take him to the mission his school will take him too. I want us to tell him about what a mission did. Why it did those things and who that hurt. I also want to take him to watch a show at El Teatro Campesino, to watch a play of course, but also so that we can show him his dad's pictures on the historic walls and his involvement with this cultural landmark.

4. National parks. I want to go to so many. I want us to hike and camp in as many as possible.

3. Portland. Because of Portlandia...just kidding, because of travel channel and food network. There are a lot of places I want to eat at and visit and they happen to be in and around Portland.

2. Sacramento. Everyone should visit there state capitol.

1. The Grand Canyon. I've never been, and I can't wait to see it for the first time with my family.







This post is part of a multi blogger collaboration, if you want to check out actual road trip stories (I'm totally guessing) or add your own crazy adventure to the mix, just click the TT button!

Changing Up The Menu

For the second maybe third time ever, Animal had a day that he didn't have a single bowel movement. He usually has 1-3. I know, I know. Who cares? Why do parents talk about their children's bowel movements? Why, am I? Honestly I don't know why, but that's not going to stop me from writing this post.

 I think digestive health is very important. I want him to be regular. I don't want him to be constipated. I don't want his "normal" to be every few days. I think that's an unhealthy, uncomfortable, and shitty state of being (pun intended). 

The hubby sent me a text suggesting that we cut his meat intake, and up his water and fiber intake.

To which I responded cutting meat, no problem. Let's agree once a day tops if any. Up water, no problem, we'll offer him his sippy cup more often and I'll ask my mom to do the same. Up fiber? We don't need to do that I said, I'm sure that he's fine there. I start to think about his daily menu. On average he gets 14 grams, not too shabby if I do say so myself, but some days he doesn't eat all the food I prepare and offer. 

Occasionally we order pizza which he loves, or go out to breakfast and he refuses everything except the bacon. Sometimes I make him a quesadilla or an egg, cheese and bacon burrito (both of which he loves, but that offer no fiber). On those days his fiber intake can be as low as 10 grams. I start to wonder if the hubby could be right. He has this super annoying habit of being right.

I jumped on Google to see what the Recommended Daily Intake of fiber is for a toddler. If you've never looked it up you might not know. It's 19 grams! Nineteen. Fuck, I'm a failure. I text the hubby and promise him I'll change up the menu.

I start thinking about what a terrible mom I am. I'm at work 9 hrs a day and I can't even prepare him nutritious meals. I suck. I start to brainstorm and Googling fiber rich foods. He eats all of them except brown rice. It's summer so he's having berries almost daily (a fiber rich food). He loves broccoli, carrots, green beans, zucchini, sweet potatoes, and peas. He doesn't love brussels sprouts, but he ate some for dinner Sunday night (along with a banana and 3 nutter butter bites). I started calming down. I mean really how many toddlers eat brussels sprouts? A few, and mine is one of them. 

I go to Trader Joe's on my lunch break. As I walk around, I realize just how healthy my son eats (mostly) the real problem I realize is two fold. 

First I was ignorant about what the actual RI was. Second, I've gotten a little (okay, moderately) laxed about what I feed my son. I'm lazy when it comes to cooking (and cleaning up a kitchen) so doing so isn't on the top of my to do list. Making sure my son is as healthy as he can be however, is. So, as I looked around I made a decision. To start paying attention, planning and changing up the menu again. For him, and for us.

I bought a bad of brown rice, the one with the highest fiber count. I decided I would cook like Spanish rice. I made it this morning. 

In a small pot, I heated 1 TBS of olive oil. Then added 1 cup of rice medley. Stir to coat with olive oil. Package said add 2 and 1/2 cups (added 2 2/3 because I usually think brown rice is dry) low sodium chicken stock and brought to a boil. Once it was boiling I covered and lower to lowest setting for 50 minutes (package said 35). Once timer goes off, turn stove off, but do not remove lid for at least 15 minutes. 

I packed 3/4 cup and topped with 1/4 cup of red (low sodium) kidney beans (rinsed and drained).

I thought rice was tasty. Easy, and if he eats it all that's about 6 grams of fiber.

He didn't eat it all. 

Here was his menu for and intake for Tuesday 6/25 (I figured out intake by using nutritional facts on package and my WW App)

Breakfast: 1/2 banana, 1/3 peach and 1/4 cup oatmeal (about 3 grams of fiber)

AM snack: 1/2 cup raspberries (4 grams fiber)

Lunch: 1/4 cup rice and a Tbs red beans (2 grams fiber)

PM snack: 1/2 cup broccoli 1/4 grapefruit 3/4 cup oatmeal with 1/2 banana mashed into it (6 grams fiber) 

Dinner: 1/4 cup carrots, 1/4 cup baked french fries (Trader Joe's), 1/2 Morning Star black bean burger (5 grams fiber) 

Total 20 grams 

We did it. This was actually an extraordinary day, he ate a lot. Some days, I can't get him to eat more than a meal. If I plan correctly, I think this is doable. 

If you want to up your child's fiber intake, first try to figure out what your child's average intake per day is. Remember to add fiber slowly. Animal's avg was 14 grams, All I really did was swap the little to no fiber meals with fruits and veggies and switched white rice out for brown rice. 

I'm going to try a new recipe out every week. I'll share the recipe here and whether or not it was successful. Have a recipe you want to share, or want to suggest one for my kid to test? Email me here.

Top Ten Today

I love taking the time to smell the roses. Honestly I wouldn't know how to get through life without taking a minute or two to thank God for my blessings great and small. So this link-up seemed like a fine opportunity to share some of those things with you...

10. Vodka tonics. Sad, maybe, but true. I'm thankful for this tasty treat. Some days are so long. So long. So stressful. So mundane. Vodka tonics are my little getaway, and I am oh so thankful for them.

9. Netflix, Hulu, my DVR. Long gone are the couch potato days. Even if I wanted to spend hours zoning our to some trash TV, a movie or two and a Walking Dead marathon, Animal would never allow it. He is so loud, so active, so demanding, and most of all so charming. I can't handle missing anymore of his life. So I am grateful for all the streaming devices that allow me to have an escape on my own time.

8. Trust worthy sitters. I would be lost without them. It's hard leaving your children, but for many of us it's a necessary evil (okay also possibly a little sanity saving) but when you have people you trust to help care for and raise your child, it's not as hard.

7. My Family. My parents and siblings who know the real me, that is impossible to know without having shared all of our lives, the way we have, and that somehow these four people love me anyway as much as I love them. The friends that are family because we choose to be. My husband and my son who are forever a part of me.

6. Health Insurance. Always. Everyday.

5. Blogging. The release and joy of writing. The people that read the words I weave and most especially the support I have gotten from it.

4. My Husband. Hats off to all you single mamas, I'm so So SO thankful for my partner. To step in when I need a break (vodka tonic). To allow me to take time for a morning run, and to take care of myself. Who can help me teach my son to be a good man. Who can listen and can witness all the private moments that make us, Us.

3. Food, because it sustains my life, and of those I love. Because it's delicious.

2. My home, because humble as it may be, it keeps me warm on a cold night. It keeps me shaded on a hot day. It's where my family lay their head to rest. And it's where we make memories.

1. My son. High energy as he may be, I trust God entrusted him to me because we are made for each other. So I am thankful.

A Pregnant Woman & Rage

The year I got pregnant (2011) the hubby got an itch to see as many concerts as possible before our lives became consumed with parenthood. It was fueled by family and friends that warned our personal lives were about to come to a screeching halt.

We had married young and had been a married couple nearly a decade before we decided to become parents. Our family had started questioning our fertility, when what they should have been doing was praising our family planning skills. Even though we were excited to embark on this new adventure, we were also a little wistful about giving up our freedom.

For our tenth wedding anniversary the hubby took me to roam the streets of Berkeley (one of my favorite places to wander) and then to the Greek Theater to watch Florence And The Machine. But this post is not about that song bird.

The hubby wanted us to go to Outside Lands, a three day music festival in San Francisco, and after the show in Berkeley I knew there was just no way. I was just 5 months pregnant then, but I realized after walking all afternoon that I was NOT going to want to spend three days walking around at a music festival. I didn't come to the decision lightly either. I really wanted to see a lot of the bands and artists. I really wanted to make that memory with the hubby. Ever since I watched "Woodstock" I have dreamed of going to such an event. It's on my bucket list.

However I knew that I was going to be miserable. My feet would be swollen, I would be grumpy, hungry, tiered and worst of all sober!

The hubby had purchased two tickets to L.A. Rising. He had always wanted to watch Rage Against
The Machine live, and now finally here was his chance. The show was in L.A. so he would be gone the weekend.

I wanted to go. He was hesitant. A Rage show he warned was not going to be safe for a pregnant woman and her unborn fetus. I was incredulous. I wanted to go. It was at the end of July just before my third trimester. It was our last chance for a road trip. I wanted that weekend away for the two of us. We would be sitting. I could handle it.

He tried to dissuade me, it was bound to be a tough crowd. Things could get ugly. He might have to fight someone, and he wasn't in shape for a fist fight he warned. He was worried he wouldn't be able to protect me. I thought he was being ridiculous. Who would be at this show? Other people our age and older. It would be fine, no one was looking to get into a fight. Muse and Lauren Hill were also performing. He wasn't so sure. Finally, my unrelenting begging reassurances won him over.

The day of the show we got to Los Angeles at ten am. Too early to check in to our hotel room. We went to this really awesome movie theater and watched Crazy Stupid Love. Then we went to a sporting good store and bought cushions for the stadium seats and had lunch at a delicious vegan restaurant. Finally, we checked into our comfy hotel room and started getting ready. All at a leisurely pace.

That's when it happened. We looked at our tickets and realized that the concert had started at 1 pm, it was 4 o'clock. We booked it. Have you ever tried to hurry in L.A.? It's basically impossible, it took us 30 minutes to go a few miles, then another 30-45 minutes to find parking about 20 minutes away. 

When we finally got to our seats after six o clock, it was like a scene from Mad Max. It did look like a rough crowd. It was really crazy. They changed our seats without telling us. We caught the end of Lauren Hill. Time it seemed had not been kind. Bummer. Rise Against, a group I wasn't familiar with played next. They were cool. Next, Muse. The hubby had been playing Muse and Rage on the drive down, but I was not prepared for the awesomeness of Muse Live. They put on a great show and made a life long fan out of me. After their terrific performance there was a long intermission. 

The crowd started getting restless. Lots of people started acting a fool. There were bottles being thrown. A man was getting medical attention near us after being hit with one of the random bottles and it cracking his forehead open. The hubby was getting nervous and was going between a small anxiety attack and excitement over getting to see one of his favorite bands.

Before the show started, there was a video on immigration. Then a video about the bands 

and their activism. It was a little strange, because I swear I felt a change in the crowd. like from excitement and general drunkenness to uneasy aggression. I remember thinking, these people know who they came to see right? 

When the show started people started rushing the security barricades to get into general admissions.  Large crowds literally ran down and aisles and flung their bodies into each other to push through security. When security put a stop to the unruliness, we saw people throwing themselves over the stadium walls. More bottle throwing. People were moshing, and starting bonfires. One of the concession tents was set on fire and another was taken down with people climbing it. The show itself was great. Some people left, obviously uncomfortable with the change in mood. I don't think they were really there to see Rage. 

We left just before the encore because we still had a 20 minute walk through not the safest looking area in L.A. We got to our car safely and reminisced about the show we had just watched, the highs and the lows. I teased the hubby about how everything had been fine just like I said it would be. He said I was way down playing the craziness of the crowd. 

Later when I recounted the weekend to my brother, including how silly the hubby had been. My brother broke the news to me. He thought it sounded like a nerve wrecking time. He did NOT think the hubby was being irrational or silly. 

This post is part of a multi blogger collaboration to read about other rocking times or add your own, just click the TT button!

9:26 min per mile

I have been running pretty consistently since January. It feels so good. Last October when I was trying to get back into it, my pace was over 10:30 min per mile. I told myself I would NOT let that defeat me. I had been slower before.Hell, I had not been able to finish even one mile before. So I decided to be proud of that pace, and I was.

That's not to say I wasn't envious of faster runners. I was just satisfied and happy to be out there. It didn't matter the speed. Just that I kept at it. I knew speed along with distance would come as a reward for my consistency. My reward, for sticking with it. I am in this for the long haul. So that was fine with me. I could handle it.

I have mentioned getting lapped by senior citizens before, and I was not joking.

There was this one silver haired man in particular. He has inspired me so. Every time I tried my feet (if you will) at running, he was there, on that track. I would get there and he would be running. I would finish my mile, eventually, painstakingly, my two miles and he would still be running.

I would watch him with awe and envy. One day I would say to myself, I'll be like that man. I'll be the first one here and the last to leave. I'll be slim and strong. The young people will notice me and maybe snicker that I even bother to run at my age, but my steady feet and consistent pace will earn me their respect.

As time went on and the years fell away. I finally dared to call myself a runner. I would run 3-7 miles at that same track at a 8:10 min per mile pace. I was small, strong and steady. Sometimes I wouldn't see the old man for weeks. His absence was felt. I would worry. My dad and I would talk about our admiration for this gentleman, and how we just wanted to be like him.

One day after a long absence, I saw him, at the track. I said hello, and told him how I always saw him and missed him in his absence. Then he said to me, "I see you all the time too. There aren't that many women runner's here. You're very fast. Good for you, keep it up".

I couldn't believe my inspiration had ever noticed me. I was elated. We got into the track, nodded goodbye and got to our runs.

I got pregnant, ran most of my pregnancy, and then after my sons birth ran sporadically at best.

During all of this time he was missing. My dad and I would speculate on his whereabouts. We live in one if the most expensive cities, maybe he retired and moved. We hated to think anything else.

Two weeks ago (after the almost crap accident) we saw him. I was excited. I asked him where he'd been. He said they moved out of state, but he was back working in the area for the summer. I told him I'd been worried, he laughed and asked how I was. I told him about my son. He congratulated me. We parted ways for our respective runs.

Halfway we were side by side in our lanes, he looked over and smiled. "You still got it", he said. My heart swelled with joy. I said something stupid, when what I really wanted to do was gush about how much he inspired me and how he "still had it". I was too fast, now that I'd taken a minute off my pace, soon I was ahead of him again.

I ran four and and quarter miles that morning. When I left he was still running. I couldn't have been happier.

Sixth Grade

My favorite grade, was sixth grade and I'll tell you why.

It's because I got to skip it. I went from being a fifth grader at the end of the school year and then started seventh grade. It was absolutely awesome.

It happened for a couple of reasons.

First, I was doing very well in school. I loved school. I loved to learn. I loved to know the how and why of things and anyone that knows something about anything will tell you, there's always more to learn.

Second, I had been held back in first grade. Not because I was dumb, or failing. It was because when we first moved to the United States I was in kindergarten and the elementary school that I went to was bilingual. I was doing great, but then halfway through first grade we moved to a smaller, less ethnic city. My new school was not bilingual.

I was actually skating along with Satisfactory marks on my report card, remember those? Before letter grades? The thing was, I was barely reading at grade level, and I would switch between writing in English and Spanish in a sentence (example: I wanted a perro, pero my mom said no.) The teacher told my parents that it was up to them, but that repeating the year would allow my language skills to "catch up". My parents decided that was best and by the following school year I had caught up, and was in the advanced reading groups and such. I continued to excel in school and so when I reached fifth grade the school gave my parents the option of me rejoining my peers in the seventh grade.

So I did.

Sixth grade was also the worst year, and I'll tell you why.

First I got all the textbooks for every subject and a fat reading assignment along with suggested work to do. I love to learn, but I don't know how many 12 year olds you know that would spend their summer vacation reading/working through a whole school years worth of curriculum. I wasn't that kid. Sure I read, lots. Lots of Stephen King. So I missed a lot.

So, as you can imagine, there are things I just never learned. Like, how to stop writing run on sentences. I have a real hard time with fractions, and never really caught up in math. I'm still a mediocre math student. I missed science camp. Worst of all I ditched all my friends. For new friends. It didn't seem so bad then, but I really regret being such a dick. I just slowly cut these people out of my life. My old friends were kids that cared about grades, and were nice people. My new friends were nice too, they just didn't care about grades as much. I didn't start failing or anything I kept a B average. I just wonder if it was the right choice.

So there you have it. The best and the worst. In one neatly wrapped, never happened package.


To read more awesome/terrible childhood memories
                                        or to add your own just click the TT button!

How Do I Love Thee...

How Do I Love Thee (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning is my favorite love poem. It's fanciful, sweet and youthful. From the first time I read it in freshman English it became a favorite. Like love itself, it's classic.

Tomorrow the hubby and I celebrate our eleventh wedding anniversary. 

Like every anniversary before it, it is both a little surprising and completely expected that we would be here. I can't fathom a world in which we're not a set. Not an Us. I love my husband more than when we were silly kids. To the level of every day's most quiet need, by sun and candlelight. 

I'm not ever going to be one of those people that pretends that marriage is easy or comes naturally. Melding two worlds into one often feels impossible if not a useless defeating act. Where both parties are unfulfilled by the task of endless compromise.  

Other times it feels like you've just fallen in love all over again. You swoon when your partner kisses you or holds your hand. Maybe if you're like me you go around reciting poetry in your head while your heart skips a beat for your beloved.

Mostly, you go about the day to day in a content mood. Muddling though the shit you hate (possibly your job, commute, housework) so that you can make it to the time of day where you get to do the same thing you do almost every night. Enjoying the moments where you get to laugh together, reminisce, and shoot the shit, because at the end of the day you just don't want to be without the family you chose and made together. 

So my dear husband,

I love thee with the breath, smiles, tears, of all my life!--and if God choose. I shall but love thee better after death

Happy Anniversary, here's to many more!

Raising a Scorpio

I have always thought of Astrology as good clean fun.

Something to giggle at and make snarky jokes about. Even though secretly, I enjoy being an Aries and think the descriptions fit me rather well. Still, I take it with a grain of salt, and reason that if I read the descriptions of other signs I would find some similarities in those as well, because they are all rather general. Right?

Recently I noticed that while I have friends from all walks of life, the one thing we all have in common is that we like to drink. This has given me a lot to think about. Is it that I don't want to be judged? They don't either, so hanging out with me is perfect Or is it that all the social gatherings at my place include me mixing drinks? During my musings I thought about the hubby's friends (the ones before me) what do they all have in common? Are they all party animals? Bohemians? Mostly, but actually what they have in common is they are highly educated and most are educators. When I mentioned this to him he laughed and said that was true, but the other thing they had in common is that they are "into" Astrology.

I laughed and said I didn't believe him. Then he said, "You wouldn't believe how often one of my friends says, of course Animal did that...he's a Scorpio". Really? I was intrigued. So I Googled "Raising a Scorpio boy". I was honestly surprised by the plethora of articles.

More surprising was how much of the characteristics of a Scorpio sound like my son. Here are the things that all the articles said, that describe my son (and many other strong willed toddlers). He's intense (has an intense gaze). Charming. Secretive. Physically strong. Strong willed. High energy. Sensitive. Needs lots of discipline. Can be vindictive and manipulating. Or forgiving and generous. Smart. Determined. Testy.

I'm not going into great detail because that would be giving to much credit or thought to something that just doesn't merit it.

Reading through them was a little surreal in that they sound so much like him. He has a need to destroy read one, saying my son would benefit from having magazines to shred and blocks, later legos to build and destroy. When I want to occupy Animal (since infancy, remember he's always been alarming strong) I will give him paper to destroy. Old magazines, ads, receipts. Few things delight him more than destroying a piece of paper. Ever since he had control of his arms and could begin to crawl, I would build things and he would knock them down. We bought him Mega Blocks for Christmas and his greatest satisfaction is from taking the blocks apart.

That is just one silly example.

The parts about how important loving but firm and consistent discipline are for him, are the ones that really got to me. I'm that kind of adult, but when it comes to Animal I feel as though I'm failing him. Not because I don't discipline, but because he doesn't seem to take me seriously. I don't know how to get through to him. The hubby says it's that I'm disciplining him with a weak tone, that I'm not putting my heart into it. Maybe that's true. I'm so conflicted with being gone for so much of his day that it's making me too patient, and ineffective. When the hubby disciplines him, Animal is visibly at attention and you can see sadness flash over his face at his fathers strong tone and intense gaze (Animal often lashes out in anger or excitedness, and his father will say "It's okay to feel angry/excited/hurt, but hitting/biting/yelling/throwing is not how we deal with things. Use your words. Never hit/bite/scream for attention/throw). He listens to his father. He cleans up for him. He calms down for him. He stops his aggressive behavior for him. I have to step up to the plate and do my part to help raise a good kid.

Now, am I reading into it? Maybe. I read through some other signs, he doesn't sound as similar to any other signs. Will I take it to heart? Or with a grain of salt? With a grain of salt, I think. But is my son a Scorpio? As much as mommy is an Aries. We're destined to be friends, it's written in the stars, and I'm not going to lie, I like that.

Microsoft Office Site

Crispin Honey Crisp Review

It probably wasn't the smartest idea. That I drink this today. I'm sick. I have a super shitty cold and I realize that drinking will not help me on the road to recovery, but I'm so miserable. I reasoned with myself that this cider has honey, and honey is good for a cold and outstanding for a sore throat.

Plus, don't I deserve a little happiness for my misery? I do.

First, I forget to turn my bottle upside down and swirl. Boo, my first fail.

Next, even though this is delicious, of that I am certain. I'm not entirely certain that I am taking in all the flavors. Smelling I know enhances flavor, and I can't smell anything I'm so stuffed up.

It's sweet, light and crisp. It looks beautiful in my tall Crispin glass.

No, they didn't pay me for this review (but Crispin, you CAN hire me). I had the great luck of meeting a Crispin rep at Costco while shopping with my sister. A four pack (variety) for 13.99 and glass (today only) with my purchase. I am a sucker for commemorative glassware.

I highly recommend this tasty cider, but I must admit I will have to try again as I cannot honestly tell which cider I prefer. I need a non-sick trail to be sure...

Calling All Inventors...

There are lots of things I wish someone would invent, that just don't exist yet.

Like, cars that run on water.

Phones that aren't obsolete in a year (or a month after you drop a pretty penny for them) or better yet that their screens didn't crack after a four foot drop and that they were waterproof.

Toys that put themselves away.

Dishes that wash themselves.

Appliances that do it all (I mean all prep, cook, clean up), Especially a toilet and shower/tub that scrub themselves.

Clothes that hang themselves.

Cars that vacuum their carpets and seats.

Cheap air conditioning.

A free editing App so I wouldn't look so dumb. I'm not BTW, I just have shitty grammar.

Right now though, most of all I wish someone would invent calorie free liquor. If only Rum could be zero calories I would be the happiest drunk ever. I don't even need the rest of the spirit family, just Rum. It's the thing I want most right this minute as I type away. Whoever does it will be rich. Filthy fucking rich.

This post is part of a multi blogger collaboration. To read more of join in, just click the TT button!

"Oh No, I'm Going To Crap My Pants"

After I had signed up for my first race ever, a half marathon. The hubby called me over to our desk where he was looking at something online. Whatever it was I was intrigued because his expression was one of fascination, awe and...disgust?

"This better never be you", he said as I came closer.

When I finally saw what he was looking at it was a runner in a marathon (full) that had crapped himself. The poor guy had shit running down his legs, obviously he was horrified, but if memory serves me correctly (and it's completely possible that it doesn't and this is just wishful thinking on my part) he was crossing the finish line.

I got one of those truly horrible colds yesterday. Where your head hurts, it's so full of pressure that you're sure it's completely possible that your head might explode. My throat hurts. My body aches. I have no patience for life or any of it's garbage.

I was going to write a review for this great hard cider last night, but when I took out my laptop at 7:15 I started nodding off at 7:17 without a single word written. So I went to bed, slept over 9 glorious hours and when my alarm rang at 5 am even though I still ached, my heart said, "You're not really going to miss a run over a stupid cold. Are you?" And my head promptly chimed in, "and after those ridiculous food choices you made, ALL weekend. You're never gonna lose this fat ass if you don't get out of bed!"

So I got myself out of my warm comfy  bed. Got ready, and headed to the track. Monday is the easy run of the week. 30 minutes.

This morning was cold and windy, but the track was quiet and welcoming. It's light out already at 5:30 this time of the year.

There's a beauty in the world when the sun is out but it's devoid of the hustle and bustle of a regular day in the city. You can really get lost in your thoughts. Clear your head. Unburden your heart. Or catch up with a friend.

My dad runs with me, has for years, it's one of the only times we get to connect. I so hope one day Animal will join me...

Any who.

Lap one, two, three go by. I'm glad I'm here. Glad I didn't miss this feeling. This feeling of strength that courses from the balls of my feet, up my legs, fills my lungs and heart. This energy I'll carry all through my harried day.

Lap four, five, six. This peace.

Lap seven. This feeling of ... my stomach cramping?

Oh shit, I think I'm going to crap my pants! Several things race through my mind.

      1. Is this really happening?

      2. Maybe it will pass. No, it won't. I'm really going to crap my pants.

      3. Where is the nearest toilet.

      4. If this happens...

               My husband will NEVER let me live it down

               He may take pictures for instagram

               He will NEVER have sex with me again

     5. Can I finish one more lap and run at least 2 miles?

Lap eight. I finished the two miles.

I wave goodbye to my dad. Jump in the car. Drive to my parents house. They live 2 minutes from track. Use my spare key and make a beeline for the toilet.

Now I know some of you will be very disappointed by how the story ends. I made it to the bathroom without incident. The end.

I am not, at all sorry to disappoint you, and very grateful I was not, that sick after all.