I’m sitting in the kitchen drinking tea and waiting for a guy to show up to talk to me about a thing.
After he leaves, the girls and I will be taking Scout and Henry to meet a new friend who just might watch them the next time we leave town. (After the bad boarding experience we had in the spring, I have become the jerk who refuses to leave town ever again unless I’m absolutely sure the dogs will be treated with respect. This afternoon I will decide if my suitcase comes upstairs or stays in the basement.)
When we return to the house, another guy is going to show up to take some money and talk a little more about another thing.
I don’t have much to report, because most of the past week has been spent stomping around in the mundanities. I bought what I think is a cute dress for an October wedding, and it’s too small. I need to lose two inches from around my rib cage for the zipper to zip. I have three months to make this happen, so I’m not terribly stressed out. I’m still doing the running thing, but I’m reluctant to sing about that too much. Just know that week four begins tomorrow morning at six, and I’m not feeling very confident. (Week Four suggests that I run four minutes, walk two minutes, run six minutes, walk three minutes, and then run four minutes again. Yesterday morning I reached the point where I could run three minutes without feeling like my heart was going to explode. The “run six minutes” thing will be tomorrow’s Eleanor Roosevelt “Do one thing every day that scares you” event.)
Tomorrow evening I’ll be eating fancy food and then watching a movie about a stripper. Eleanor Roosevelt!
This is what I did last night:
I don’t spin nearly as much as I should. When I’m downstairs spinning, I achieve a pretty amazing level of relaxation. My shoulders drop down from their normal location (they spend most of the day reaching for my ears), I lose track of time, and suddenly I have a bobbin filling up with yarn. I’m fully convinced that everyone needs something like this.
This evening I’ll be preparing a silk/merino blend for the Tour de Fleece. (It runs parallel with the Tour de France. Everyone spins their wheels. I’m not an official participant, but I do need to start spinning more regularly.)
I’ve been baking zucchini bread and reading Nick Hornby and listening to Fiona Apple and putting the first sleeve on my Acer. I’ve been thinking about taking a writing class or joining a writing group or just simply writing. You can’t be a baker unless you bake. You can’t be a runner unless you run. And so forth.