|Filed Under:||Lifestyle / Parenting|
|Posts on Regator:||2550|
|Posts / Week:||5.3|
|Archived Since:||April 22, 2008|
While we have all been motivated to take on more of an activist role in our daily lives, we also need some intermittent distraction to ease strain on the brain. And oh, the strain on the brain to come.
This is where I've been for the last five months, why I was so quiet during the election, and why I should have worked harder.
This is not nearly as political as some of you want me to be, but it's the first time I have written anything in four months. I sat down to see if my fingers could remember what to do.
"She trusted us to have his best interest at heart and she trusted us to know the care he required. Calling the police for him was wrong, it was a mistake, and it was racist."
It's my most favorite season of the year (to bundle up and show up to the pool dressed as if I'm about to shovel snow).
Even if you're doing it wrong, you're doing it. So do it.
Not included in this list of ideas is a the nudge certain fathers need to adopt modern technology. Although I will give my father credit: he finally caved and is using his dishwasher.
I didn't even notice that a unicorn was on the medal until Marlo pointed this out to me IS HOW DEPLETED I AM.
I'd call this Part One of my Boston Marathon experience, but that part started the day I did my first long run.
That March Equinox has had a very long and debilitating shadow.
Various answers to questions about the boatloads of fuel I've used to train for a marathon WAIT. I'm running a marathon again?! WTF.
Meet Simon Wheatcroft, my companion in the 2016 Boston Marathon, he who runs for the pursuit of the challenge. And donuts.
They refer to next few weeks as "tapering," but I call it "holy shit it's time to freak the fuck out."
When the Internet concern trolls you and calls you crazy, you turn that shit into a podcast.
The headline of this post should lead you to believe that I have finally put "fear of writing titles" far behind me.
My friends are reading this and going, "Wait, she's not referring me, is she?" All except one. That friend is nodding smugly.
Three ways to tell the woman in your life, "Look! I don't take you for granted ALL of the time!"
I was ging to write a short feature about a friend's book I really love, and this is what happened.
I said I'd never do this again, that this was by far worse than an unmedicated childbirth, but some things are far more important than a few hours of concentrated pain.
If I asked, "Does this bring me joy" about every item in my home, a good 40-50% of the time my kids would end up in the recycling bin.