And it all came crashing down…

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As I took my second sip of coffee, hoping for that familiar feeling of alertness to wash over me, I heard a loud crashing noise from the office/workout room/guest bedroom/junk room.

It appears as if Charlie got spooked by our weight-lifting mirror, thinking there was another dog that LOOKED JUST LIKE HIM! in our house, so he jumped at said twinner dog and broke the mirror into a million pieces.

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Though he felt kind of stupid afterwards, I didn’t scold him, other than to remind him that if he had been, I don’t know, vacuuming his bed rather than looking in the mirror, all would be well.  He mumbled something about not being able to hold the attachment in his paw, but I just walked away.

MFP actually found the mirror on the side of the road and picked it up thinking that it might help me with my lunging, etc., since my knees have been bothering me.  And just like magic, keeping an eye on my form alleviated the stress off of my knees.  Hopefully I am past the wobbly stage now.

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We’ve been enjoying some unusually cold weather this week, when we are not breaking things. 

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Cool weather makes for some amazing running.

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And skiing.  MFP took Oldest and Youngest up the mountain the other day, while Middle and I held down the fort.

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Which included a trip to Panera bread for some soup.

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Sadly, I realize that most of the utilitarian food I make around here for this house full of athletes must be utterly tasteless, because this bowl of tomato soup was to die for.  Who says “to die for” and “tomato soup” in the same sentence?  That’s how I know my cooking must be really bad.

I suppose I got out of the habit of making tasty meals because the kids became picky eaters, and I became weary about making elaborate meals and then having three surly boys push their plates away in disgust.  Also I was kind of miffed, but you have to change the m to a p and the f’s to ss’s to really understand how I felt.

So I am thinking that I might get out my cookbook and plan a few meals for the week that, you know, taste like something besides cardboard.  First I will have to not worry about what the boys think, and second, I will have to not sigh in contempt if the ingredients list is too complicated or long. 

That will take some effort.

Perhaps if I just started with a simple soup my experience wouldn’t be too much of a turn-off?

And so with that I am going to go clean up the remnants of the crashed mirror, brush myself off, and put on my apron.  (Did you know that aprons freak me out and that I never wear one even though MFP does?)

Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to change anytime soon, no matter how tasty my food becomes.

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Rebecca

Rebecca is a runner, a vegetarian, a sometimes yogi, a former journalist, a mom to three very active boys, a voracious reader and a wife to a Mr. Fussy Pants (MFP).

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