I have a case of the borings

So I am going to just write a disjointed post of things that come to mind.

Halloween. Noah was so cute in that costume I could barely stand it. Lara was a princess, but she refused to wear her crown. Jordan was, obviously, a butterfly. We went through fourteen bags of candy, and I only allow kids to take one piece. Suburbia. Gotta love it.

My mind.
It's programmed at this point to think only of this coming Saturday. I'm not going to talk about that, though.

Today I ran outside in tights for the first time this winter. I also had to wear gloves. It's over. Shorts are over. It's a sad day. I held out for a VERY long time. November 2 might be a new late-season record.
My run today was fresh and cold, though. I like fresh and cold. I will always take fresh and cold over still and hot.

I have been reading super cheesy chick lit lately. This week's read is Can You Keep A Secret by Sophie Kinsella. It's mindless and soothing. This is, perhaps, adding to my boringness.

The chick lit does make me wonder why I care so little about fashion, beauty, manicures etc. I like to be manicured, but it is not necessary to me. I spend most of my life with slightly too hairy eyebrows, unshaved legs and hangnails. To work I wear my self-imposed uniform of khakis and a black top with clogs, and on the weekends I wear old running t-shirts and ripped jeans. Why? Why don't I try harder? That is the question. My mother tries hard. Why didn't I inherit that from her?

I am really sick of my playlists, so I have stolen a few of the hub's. He has lots of Police, U2 and Dire Straits on his workout lists. Dire Straits is mostly too slow to work out to (in my opinion) but I discovered renewed love for Romeo and Juliet. What a GREAT song. Today on my run I had fun jamming to So Lonely by The Police. It was a great few minutes. Cars driving by likely thought I was insane as I danced/ran and mouthed the words with accompanying appropriate facial expressions.

Also on this playlist: Ground Control to Major Tom by David Bowie. This song makes me feel very sad.

I did fourteen loads of laundry since last Friday. I've been noticing that I average two loads a day. How is this possible? I spend a large portion of my life folding and putting laundry away. I wonder if I spend more time working out each week, or folding and putting away laundry?

I think I would like to be a freelance writer and write articles for magazines like Triathlete or Runner's World. How does one go about doing that?

On Friday afternoon I took Jordan (my oldest) to a local nursing home to go trick-or-treating. She is a part of a group called Do Something at her school that set up the trip. Jordan was so brave and cool, talking with everyone in such a friendly, relaxed way. She made me so proud. She's only seven, but she gets it. She gets why it was important that she was there. I think about aging every day of my life. Why does the knowledge of aging haunt me? These women and men were just like me--living, stressing, raising their children, working. Now they are talked to as if they are children and must live in these small rooms, often shared, without their independence-- until they die. Will I outlive my loved ones? Will I be alone in a nursing home? Will my children see me as a burden? I vow never to view my own parents or my in-laws as burdens. I vow never to talk to them as if they are children.

Could I make a difference there? That is another thought for career. I have worked my whole life with the young. Should I now confront the other bookend of life?

Clearwater is in six days. I am going to eat that course up. I am going to make all of my hard work worth it. I am not going to lie to myself that it doesn't matter. It matters to me. Embracing that is scary. Tough, Mary. Embrace it.