I’ve been scrambling the last few weeks. Nothing even feels real. It’s like one day I woke up and discovered I was in The Twilight Zone, and by that I don’t mean Edward the Vampire and an underage goofy looking half nekkid werewolf were knocking on my door because I’m the socially awkward new girl.
I’m the socially awkward anemic runner.
Vampires don’t even give me the time of day.
As long as I don't look too closely at anything, EVERYTHING is fine. We're ALL FINE HERE. But in all honesty... the weirdness is peaking through in a few spots that are impossible to overlook.
AND Part of the weirdness is the randomness.
Randomness abounds at Chez Moi.
I have a project due tomorrow, the usual scheduling mania that comes with 3 kids, a sometimes pissed off Right Foot, an interview for Will Feral’s placement, and a deadline for the magazine next weekend. “I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wife to murder, and Guilder to frame for it…” My rough draft isn’t even finished because ½ way through the rough I changed tack and moved on to a new version of the old idea. It wasn’t going to play the way I envisioned. I’m never late on a deadline. Never. And yet… here it’s the 6th, and… nothing.
C’est la vie.
My oldest daughter is signing up for classes for next school year, and wants to take French because I speak a miniscule amount of French and she thinks I will tutor her. Miniscule is probably an over reach. I read & write a bit more than I speak, and I read & write about 19 words & phrases. Let’s recap a minute – she’s autistic and has a difficult time communicating in English. I’m not 100% in favor of her taking a foreign language, and at the same time, I’m not 100% opposed. You never know someone’s strengths until they try it. Maybe a foreign language is her thing? But if it’s not, we’re in for rough water ahead.
Speaking of slogging…
My return to running was celebrated a touch early. I was up to running 4 days a week… and now I’m back to running 2 days a week. I’m hopeful I can pull of 3 days a week next week but (dot dot dot). Regardless, I am not comfortable running. My plan for this spring was to come into training with a nice base of about 35 miles a week and then add speed to that base. Now I’m just trying to survive 12 miles a week without pain, tingling or numbness. I managed a tempo run last Sat at a solid pace, but no-where near where I was last Oct.
Maybe weird isn’t the word for that last bit, but pissed off and frustrated is sort of over done at this point.