Let’s just get the awkward confessions out of the way.
Today it was over 80° out and so naturally I sought shelter from the heat wave within the sweet, air-conditioned embrace of Target. It was there that I found myself sinking to a new low – purchasing swimwear from the children’s section.
Sure it’s got a little bit of a Flinstone-vibe going, but for less than half the price of something from the adult section, I’ll take it. One bright side of the obesity crisis is that they make kid’s swimsuits in sizes up to XL…and that XL happens to fit a grown-ass woman. Perks of having a short torso and no boobs!
(Sorry to all my male relatives who just read that.)
Ok, onto less awkward talk…
Hold on to your horses, folks. What I say next might shock you.
I’m kind of sort of a little bit maybe starting to like running.
Now, I’m not saying I love it. I’m not saying I get excited before each run. I’m definitely not saying I’m good at it.
But I’m getting better at not hating it. So that has to count for something, because I never in a million years thought that would happen.
Unfortunately my knees don’t agree. They feel like hell right now. I’d post an audio clip of the crunching you hear when I squat down, but the sound would make you gag and I don’t want to do that to yall. It sucks because A) I really value having fully functional knees and B) I was just almost kind of starting to enjoy this strange activity that’s rumored to be good for your health or something like that.
Speaking of being a mess…my left posterior tib is flaring up again – that’s what you get for hiking up the mileage on flat feet – and I’ve got something that I can’t figure out going on with my shoulder (all I know is it feels like bad. news. bears.)…pretty much I’m falling apart. It’s not cute.
In spite of my crumbling physical state, I still manage to make time for the important things in life.
One of my favorite aunts was in town this weekend, and she took me out to one of the wine bars in town for a drink and girl talk. I told the bartender I like coffee black [ok, sometimes] and my whiskey straight, and he suggested the tempranillo. It was my first time trying it, and it was dark and a bit spicy and a lot delightful. Instant fan over here.
Then bartender Kevin started doling out relationship advice…which was a little weird but turned out to be surprisingly solid advice. So you know, I got wine and girl time and free life coaching. Not bad for a Sunday night.
Another highlight from the week? When my father told me, “If you need to make money, why not try dancing?”
I was flabbergasted. First of all, if you’ve seen me dance, you know it’s something from which I could only make money if the audience were completely hammered, blind, or paying me to stop flailing.
But you know what? Even though it ain’t pretty, I can’t stop. When the right song comes on (Bruno Mars and Macklemore, I’m holding yall personally responsible), I am absolutely compelled to get my groove on. I mean, I nearly got pulled over by a cop this week because I was dancing my ass off so hard while driving one afternoon.
I may or may not have been under the influence of about 4 cups of coffee by that point.
(Actually, I still kind of wish he would have pulled me over because…well, men in uniform. Need I say more?)
Seriously, it’s a sickness. But the only cure is more
So, in other fun news that doesn’t involve semi-clothed selfies, alcohol, or officers of the law (what a combo), I’ve got my first official grad school interview coming up on Monday. When I got the call the day after applying, I was shocked, but sometimes these things fall together better than we can plan them. Mildly scared and mostly excited.
And just to tease yall, I’ve got to confess that I’m very excited about an upcoming partnership involving the blog. The cat’s got to stay in the bag for now, but I’ll be sharing details as soon as they’re all ironed out.
Oh, and PS: turns out my Dad was actually saying “If your knees keep your from running, why not try dancing?”
So he was basically suggesting jazzercise. I should probably be more offended, but mostly I’m relieved he wasn’t telling me to buy fishnet stockings, body glitter, and a one way ticket to Vegas.