Sunday, May 1

happy May day

And what better way to chronicle that than with a stream of consciousness this Sunday evening as I wait for my dessert to finish baking.

* We have less than a week until it's time for the Santa Ynez Half Marathon relay guessed it...Santa Ynez.  It'll be a bit o' a drive up there, but I'm pegging for gorgeous views.  I'm running the first leg at 5.5 miles uphill.  Yay.  Hills.  I need to write up an itinerary for Saturday morning, make a packing list of clothes and food items, and make a beer run.  We take fueling seriously.  Powered by PowerBar Chomps pre-race...honey packets mid-race....and beer and protein cookies post-race.

* My gams are finally feeling human.  Thursday I overzealously squatted and lunged my way into not being able to walk without people questioning hemorrhoids.  I waddled like a pregnant lady.  And I winced like someone with appendicitis.  I could barely sit on the toilet.  Many times I debated just peeing myself in the shower because it'd be easier than needing the wall braces like a geriatric in the hospital.

* Yesterday I stepped out for 8 miles around base.  However, the Santa Ana winds had a different idea for the day.  My pace ranged from 8:59 to 12:07 depending on the direction of the wind. I was pelted with sand that stung my legs, eyes, and ears.  I hid behind electrical boxes and buildings.  I almost hailed the Fire Chief that passed me to take me back to Running Buddy's house.  Running Buddy, her family, and an assisting Mr. Wookie were moving midst base housing, so I was alone on this venture.  It was painful.  So I struggled against the raging wind and power-walked home because it was faster than trying to run.

* I turned on the television and I'm waiting for the President to strut his stuff to the podium and divulge this information on a dead mastermind of terrorism.  This is unbelievable.

* My stomach was growling post-dinner and I was craving a baked strawberry concoction.  My stomach is now happy after it waited the 20 minutes for the smells to permeate the house.  But I think I need seconds.  Sundays are hard work 'round here.

* The laundry is about done.  The alarms just went off.  Time to fold the load.  After that second helping of dessert, of course.

* Life's just trucking along at a normal pace.  There's not much going on.  Mr. Wookie has been home under standard operating procedures at the squadron.  There have been a few training dates that have risen for the next couple months where he'll be flexing his muscles (literally) and protecting freedom.  This is what I like: advanced warning.

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