So we left off here, when I was fake-smiling in a selfie after a horrendous 22-mile run in the heat.
Charlie was still mad at me for choosing track practice three times a week rather than hanging out with him on the sofa.
And I seem to remember being really, really hungry. I really wanted to eat some pizza and drink a beer, but first I had a few very important errands to run.
I had to make an emergency trip over to the Good Will because when I picked up Oldest from school on Friday he reported that he was going to an expensive restaurant with the French club and that a pair of dress shoes were required for entry. In like twenty minutes or less.
“Okay, it’s the thrift store or nothing, son. We don’t have time to go to the mall.”
It’s not as if he doesn’t own anything other than running shoes. Nearly, but not so. It’s that his feet grow like two inches every month and I cannot possibly keep him up to date with shoes he may or may not need in Southern California where skate shoes are fine to wear to church every Sunday.
Upon entry, he easily found a pair of shoes that looked brand new, like no one else’s stinky man’s foot had been in them. Ever. He did, however, complain about the music coming out of the speakers. (It’s Good freaking Will! They don’t play Band of Horses. So what?)
The next best thing was that Youngest found a sweeet chair for his room.
No. Just no. He tried his best to convince me. (I really, really hope he never comes into a lot of money because his taste makes me afraid that he will be a major nouveau riche faux paus just waiting to happen.)
So after Oldest on his way to an elegant dinner in his thrift store shoes, we finally made it to our Friday night ritual.
Not only am I becoming a kombucha brew-master, I am also becoming pretty adept at twirling a pizza dough.
But wait. I forgot the most important part.
I picked up one of these mascaras on my way home from dropping off Oldest. You will understand why I am telling you this later.
Somewhere around 8:30 p.m., my tired, weary behind finally connected with the sofa, a slice of homemade pizza and a beer safely in my grasp.
The next morning we had more track, as you would expect. (Charlie is growling in the corner.)
I threw my hair in a ponytail, and we were off.
I took a break between hanging out at the oval and two basketball games to go to a blogging event.
I came home to find that, while I was away, Middle had downloaded like 50 free software programs and with them all of their viruses, so I spent most of my evening scanning and dealing with IT issues. (Not IT Band.)
And so after my computer-related headache subsided, I lay my weary head on the pillow, got eight refreshing hours of sleep, and guess what?
I woke up with my mascara perfectly in place, just as I had left it the day before.
So it just goes to show you, that no matter what life throws at you, having perfectly darkened eyelashes is really the most important thing.
Just kidding. Sort of.
And so today MFP and the kids are off to the snow while I put my feet up and try to recover from a bad case of running shoe-induced Tourette’s.
You can read about it in My Training.