I told you guys that November would be a dry blogging month and well, I must be psychic huh? Even I can't believe it's been over a week. But every time I sit down to write out what's happening, my novel cursor blinks in the background as though it's waving a little index finger at me, "No, no, no. You get back to work." Well, this morning, I told that bitch who's boss. After a week of being behind at least a thousand words every day, I finally caught up to 200 words under quota last night, so I'm cutting myself some slack.
Kids... Mama's been sick ALL.WEEK.LONG. You'll remember, I was a little chesty and snotty last weekend, right? Well, I got up on Sunday morning and did my damn 11 like a good girl. It about killed me, but I did it. The good news was that things seemed easier than usual until about mile 9 and then I thought I'd die. The funny part was that just as I was thinking, "This marathon business is a bad idea. I'm not getting any better in my training and I'm not going to make marathon pace. I might as well fall back down to a half-marathon and stop trying to kill myself," a guy came running by me and said--loud enough so I could hear through my earbuds--"Courage!" and gave me a thumbs up.
Okay, first of all, peeps over here don't just come up and tell you to keep up the good work. It's just not done. So, I was completely caught off guard. At first, I narrowed my eyes at him and wondered if he was making fun of me or something--chubby American girl running in the parc...let's make some sport of her--and I would have probably left it there had he not turned and gave me a pretty convincing thumbs up. Either way, in the end, I believed in the gesture and it kept me going.
By the end, I was back to wanting to cut it back down to a half. I was crying. I don't know why I can't seem to get any better. It's really freaking hard to train by yourself when you're as socially motivated as I am (dependent?). The short runs are hard because I have to go so early and it's so damn cold and dark. The long runs are hard because, well, they are physically just freaking hard--I'm fat, I have flat feet, I have that stupid heart murmur that I wish I didn't know about--and LONELY. When I used to go on long runs, I had my running buddy (HEY FLECK) to talk to me and bug me and whine about how tired she was so I could spend my time cussing at her to pick up her feet and move her ass. It gave me something to do, poor thing. Maybe that's the thing. Maybe I'm bored of it cuz I gotta do it all alone? Maybe I should change the music in my MP3 player and shake things up a little.
Whatever the reason, today, the day I'm supposed to do my longest distance ever--16 miles--I don't think I'm going. Part of it is that right on the heels of that chesty crap I had, I caught another some kind of throaty crap AND some kind of debilitating stomach virus. I'm starting to think that I'm catching all this crap because I'm not letting my body rest. I'm staying up late writing, I'm getting up early and going running while my body is already SICK and I'm not letting it heal. That's the main reason I'm not going. The other reason is that I've been in the bathroom all week long and I don't want that to happen to me while I'm at the parc, trying to make it to 16.
I'm pissed off.
I don't know what to do. Damned if I do, damned if I don't. If I go, I know I'll stay out there out of stubborness. I'll do the 16 at the risk of further detriment to my health. If I DON'T go, I'm screwing my my training. This is the rocky road that is training for a marathon, I guess. You can't train TOO early because you might slack when it comes time to race. But you can't get SICK during the last ten or so weeks because that's crunch time.
Okay, I'm changing topics because this one is really pissing me off.
Writing... You wonder why I've dropped off the face of the Earth. Um, it's cuz I have. I have spent the last three weeks either on the moon or in underground tunnels in a post-apocalyptic Earth. Fun, fun, fun. Here I am in the last week of NaNoWriMo and I pretty much hate the novel. I hate my characters. I figure my whole idea sucks because I didn't take more time to research the SCIENCE of my science fiction idea. Yet, I write on. I feel like this every year and every year, I write on and I feel good about it later when I "win" Nano. And then, I use the energy I've ridden through the month to get back to an old writing project or start a new one and inject a little Nano juice into it.
This has been a strange Nano. I started out really loving the novel and saying that it was my best so far, but here I am wondering if it is the worst.
Yet, I write on.
So, NEXT weekend is our Thanksgiving/Ryan's Birthday party gig. We've invited the neighbors, the cousins, a couple of my new friends, etc. I have the pumpkin roasted, peeled and pureed--waiting in a ziplock in the freezer wanting me to turn it into pumpkin pie. I have the potatoes bought and stored from the market for the mashed taters--I'm gonna FREAK those Frenchies out by not peeling half of my potatoes!!! That'll really throw 'em for a loop. That don't make mashed taters here, they make puree. Well, where I come from, you ball (boil) the taters and maysh (mash) 'em until crumbly, add enough milk, butter and salt to make your heart stop and call it dun (done). Never in my life did I use a hand mixter or potato ricer or food mill to make mashed potatoes. In my opinion, that's why they're called "mashed potatoes"--the mashing is the key here, folks.
Because of Nano and GUT ROT, I haven't been very cook-y this week. I did make zuke bread again (don't worry Ju, I haven't forgotten you, I just lost the recipe for a few days--when Sam "puts stuff away"... *eye roll*) and more pumpkin muffins, but I didn't make bread or anything really industrious. I did try quinoa last night. It's this grain that comes from South America (I haven't done too much research on it--I tried it cuz it looked healthy and cuz it's organic). My sister in law told me to prepare it like I would rice. So, I cooked some up, let it cool, added some yogurt, cuke (my last one since that seasons pretty much over), lemon juice, garlic and salt and called it "salad." It was okay. But it was better with just butter. I think it would be AWESOME if I did some sort of rice pudding kind of thing with it... Like add the yogurt but then add honey and a splash of orange juice.
I watched the cooking channel on TV once this week while giving Lolo her bottle and saw these guys making something rooty that looked pretty good, so I'm giving the roots a second chance this week. Plus, I'm going to make more pear jam.
YESTERDAY, for lunch, we ate some of the pasta that we had made over a month ago and frozen. It was our "freeze the pasta" experiment and it turned out BEAUTIFULLY. And it was SO frickin' good with the mint pesto on it. The kids gobbled it up and Sam said, "I can't stop," and kept ladle-ing it onto his plate. I'll be making a SHIT LOAD of mint pesto next summer! It was seriously delish.
What else? It looks like we're giving up on public school. Well, maybe. Ryan has come home every day saying that he loves playing with his friends but that the school part is boring. My first impulse is to say, "DUH, it's school!!!" But that's not fair. He's five on Friday. School should not be boring when you're five. So, we've asked if Sam's company would pay for Ryan's tuition if he goes to a Montessori (as they offered in the contract) and they said yes. Sam went on Friday to visit the school again and put Ryan and Lily's name on the waiting list for next September. Who knows? Maybe public school will get more exciting? Maybe we won't send him to Montessori in the end. But you have to get on the list WAY early if you want in, so I'm glad we've done that.
Oh, and the daycare called and said they're ready to take Lolo some days during the week. *sigh* I thought I'd be ready. I thought I'd be happy. And I know in my heart she needs to be around other babies. But, part of me is sad. She's my little sidekick, you know? I mean, she's the first baby I've stayed home with while I didn't have school or work or post-partum depression. I'm attached to her. But, again, she NEEDS socialization. It's not fair to ask her to hang out with a 30-ahem year old instead of playing with other kids. *sigh*
So, I think that's the news. Nothing big and exciting. Blame that on Nano and Gut Rot. November's almost over.