Decisions made under Emotional Duress

I'm back!  Thanks for all the love over the last couple days.  I was fine, really - a few stealthy hiccups, a couple tissues, but there was no wailing or rending of garments in public*.   One of the advantages of being obnoxiously busy at work. 

Although...  in a sign that I had actually probably been driven clinically insane by grief, on Tuesday my brother talked me into running a half marathon with him.  In two months.  [Black humor anyone?  Too dark?]  Since my last post was so very long, I won't try to explain quite how hopeless, logistically impossible, and BATSHIT CRAZY this is.  It would be epic, a tome - the unabridged Oxford English Dictionary of reasons this is Not A Promising Plan. 

But the 26.2 mile run is on my bucket list.  Running half that will either be a good start or enough to convince me my list needs revising.  I'm turning *cough* soon (read: Major Milestone Birthday).  And since I have little'uns to care for I won't be jumping out of an airplane anytime soon ever.  Bit of a midlife stereotype, yes, but cheaper than getting a convertible.  How bad could it be?  (mirthless laughter).  I'm posting the plan here only to keep myself honest.  Though if I never mention it again... well, be kind.

I have photos of the most-cutest dress ever on my gorgeous gal but cannot find my camera (nor my sunglasses. See above re:  midlife), so the last of the vacation photos are below. 

      *Cate posted a link to this article by Emily Rapp a few days ago.  The author described exactly what I was trying to - using a lot less space.  She also wrote this:  "[It] felt straight out of a Victorian novel:  I was hysterical, inconsolable, stricken.  I had the urge to run down the street in pajamas (for lack of a period nightgown) tearing at my hair and wailing."   Which I wish I'd written. 

Miss CA's Bougainvillea



The Long Road.

 

That which does not grow in Missouri



The World's Smallest Puddle