I popped right up at 7 a.m. this morning (read: I blearily rolled from my bed after hitting the snooze button twice) to take my much-needed walk with Mimosa; alas, just as we parked the car near the bike path, it began to rain. And not in a pleasant "Nature's gentle kisses!" kinda way; more in a cold drip-drip-drip in your face till you want to punch a tree kinda way. So we turned around and went back home.
Ooooh, that's my second lie! Mimosa went to Starbuck's and I went to Walgreens — with no make-up, in my workout clothes, fresh out of bed. All I had going for me was clean teeth. No one I knew was shopping there, but of course my Walgreen's boyfriend (an adorable young man with caramel skin and melting eyes — he always bags my purchases so tenderly) was at the register. Oh, well. If he can't love me for who I am on the inside, I see no future for us.
This of course prompted me to tell Mimosa about the time in high school when I had to stop for tampons on the way to a play rehearsal (and really had to — there was no putting off this particular errand), and the only person working was a nerdy guy who had a semi-crush on me. Mortifying. To his credit, though, he was the essence of professionalism.
I love to tell my daughter these kinds of stories so she can see how hip I am to the travails of the young, and then she will know that she can confide in me about anything, anything! and I will understand and try to help, and we'll be mother-daughter best friends forever!
Yeah, I'm living the dream.
But even though I wanted nothing more than to (1) go back to bed, or, barring that, (2) drink coffee and read for a bit before starting chores, instead I chose Option Dead Last: head to the basement and walk on my treadmill. I loathed every minute of it (though it was entertaining to do the mental math of how long I would have to stay on my treadmill to equal the marathon that Bride Boy is going to run in October — I think the answer is "October"), but it didn't take me that long to crank out two miles, and then I lifted weights and then I did my chores. The house is clean, and my cardiovascular system is sound. All good.
And I'm happy to report that the Peaches and Cream Dessert is even better the second day!
Tomorrow Husband turns 58. I just wrapped all his presents and am very excited to see him open a few of him. This is the last of the Big August Birthdays, and we will make the most of it. Hoopla will abound!
Off to mend Senor Scary, Li'l Martini's wrestling dummy. (His head keep detaching from his shoulders. I know nothing about wrestling, but this seems . . . unhealthy.)
—Lady C, crack diagnostician