Stupid things

This afternoon I broke the heel off my shoe. I wasn't even walking, rather I was simply sitting at my desk and the heel snapped right off. Snapped off my pretty, hot pink, pointy, fabulous shoe. Damn. Weird part is that I wasn't even mad. I just happily hobbled around all afternoon. Granted, my right calf hurt like hell; yet I wasn't mad that my lovely shoe was hurt. I blame the damn running for my peace of mind.

All the running in the world can't make me feel better about a few things though. "Was the weatherman asking us questions? I thought we were gonna get Matt Lauer. We were thrown off that the weatherman was trying to talk to Speidi". Arrggghhhh. If you want your head to spin, you have to watch the saintly Al Roker interrogate the two-headed moronic monster. How can they possibly think they are ANYTHING? And why do all the other stupid people in America fuel them on? Oh, I must not question such things or my eye will explode.

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Me and my broken pink shoe are just going to crawl into bed now and say nice things to each other. Shoe is far less dangerous now that his heel is laying in my handbag. Maybe the stupid people will be quiet in the morning.

Communication Challenges

Last night Michael and i had a few moments of misunderstanding. He had a doctor's appointment in the afternoon, so he swung home beforehand to drop his things off. While there, he fed Iona dinner. A few hours later I unsuspectingly arrived home to find a seemingly starving dog waiting for me. So I fed her dinner. We now refer to her by her Indian name of Two Dinners.

Two Dinners the Fat Pig could have been avoided if I was somehow able to communicate with my husband. We have these things called paper, yet there was no note left for me. We also have these crazy ass devices that have phone, IM, text, email capabilities. Yet, no success when I attempted all of these channels. Numerous times.

"Where, oh where is my husband?", I wonder. It was now after 7p and I didn't believe his doctor appointment could have lasted that long. Then I start worrying that they found something in his blood work and kept him there. Let's face it, he has had a series of weird things lately. AND he had this big bug bite on his leg that he was going to ask the doc about. Maybe he was chewed on by something poisonous in the woods and they checked him into the hospital. Where was he?

Finally the intense rays of my concern managed to burrow into his brain and I received an IM. He was out running trails in Umstead park. BY HIMSELF. Where no one knew where he was.

My darling husband who in the past month has had a tick-borne illness, an esophageal dilation, and numerous bites and scratches...goes running in the woods alone, and no one knew where he was. Sigh, I could not handle children. Iona and Michael seem to want to use up all my worry on themselves. I couldn't stay mad at him though, as his doctor was impressed that his blood pressure is down and he's lost 15 pounds. Sorry to say that he'll be gaining a little of that back once I staple his Blackberry to his hand.

Sheer joy

Sometimes a girl just has to do things because they make her grin. I was saving these for when I was mad at Michael and simultaneously wanted to punish him and give myself some glee. That has not yet happened, and so I do this completely gratuitously. You will not be able to help yourself. You will laugh.

He has been participating with the Sir Walter's Hash House Harriers...or Drinkers with a running problem. At least once a week they go forging through trails, and woods and streams for 4-6 miles.


Sometimes they run on dry concrete. Sometimes they wear dresses. OK, so they only wear dresses once a year, but I think that is more than enough.

We shall not even speak about the fact that this dress was actually owned and worn by a woman. We shall not speak of it, as that would just be mean, mean, mean. Oh, there I go grinning again.