Y’all. I’m taking a leave of absence. Luff you oodles but damn if I’m not in over my head. We have a few trips coming up and I have a few jobs to finish. I’ll be back at the start of October. (Ah, comeon now, that’s only two weeks if you think about it. Hell, the good shows haven’t even started yet!) If you’ve registered and haven’t been approved, I’ll do that when I return as well. I won’t be updating fitness posts but you should still see my runs increase on the sidebar.
In the mean time, follow me here. I’ll still tweet. Because I’m an addict.
[I stood in the isle and started to cry. It had been a long week, a good week, long in the way you hope summer will issue its good-bye and fall will gently take over. It had been full of new friends, new babies, and new houses. It never seemed more like this was our home. The realization wasn’t only comforting, it warmed me in small tingles. It was the sudden grasp of the distance, however, that brought the familiar sting of emotion to my eyes. This was now our home and our home was so very far away from where I started...]
Often when I glance at my youngest, I see another familiar face. I see pieces of my own and small bits of my husband, but even more than his parents, my son looks like my father. He is a living replica of the goofy baby picture I grew up seeing... Read more
September 11, 2001: Where was I?
I don’t need a picture to remember.
I remember the day I knew I could marry Mr. Flinger. Surprisingly, it wasn’t in High School when we were mushy young love-birds. (gag) It wasn’t during college when we were best friends, not-dating, and desperately fixing one another up with other people. It wasn’t until years later, at 24, having moved home to Texas and back that I saw him with my cousin Danielle. I remember the summer, of 2000, living with my Uncle and Aunt having found a job up in Portland, but not an apartment. I moved up from Houston ready to start my job and my new life, namely, hoping Mr. Flinger and I would hook-up (chicka chicka bow-wow). One day we took my cousin roller blading. She so adored Mr. Flinger that she made a necklace for him, a pretty little thing with beads and a star at... Read more
First of all, does anyone else feel like they could’ve fed their baby scrabble pieces and he could’ve crapped out a better post than the last one I wrote? My god, people. She stared preschool, it wasn’t so horrible, I felt inadequate as always in the face of organized parents. The end. Now, everyone run and go star that post as your all time favorite so we can look back and feel the way we do about skinny jeans: WHAT were we thinking?
Yes? Moving along then.
We all know how... Read more
LB stared preschool today. Since she’s mastered two-year-old speak (read: “NO! MINE! I CAN DO IT MYSELF!”) and knows the alphabet, can recognize her name in print, and counts to twenty, we thought it was time to put her in a program to show off her mad skillz. I mean, preschool is the alpha-mom thing to do, right?
Of course it is. But apparently so is owning a mini-van. Already I’m behind.
After struggling to be on time to an event for the first time in months, we arrived only ten minutes late. Which, really, is very impressive.. to me… that is. I pulled in to her school and was confronted with a sea of mini-vans of people who are able to be on time. The... Read more
I mentioned the man who asked if I was pregnant? And I mentioned how “aha! I’m at a weight I would probably shut myself in to a closet after reading on the scale in college and now I’m celebrating it!” Well, that closet thing… it is moments away. This weekend I realized why I felt so icky about that weight in college and sort-of revisited that feeling.
We visited my college town this weekend. It’s a lovely town full of parks and coffee shops and places that make you go “oohhhh! Ahhhh!” There are views of mountains and large bodies of water. There are also a lot of views of beautiful people. People who are fit and active and represent everything I am on the inside. Me. The old me. Who I think I still am but don’t see in the... Read more
May all your labor day weekends be as much fun as staying up an hour past bedtime is to her.
Amen, y’all, Amen.Read more