I just read another one of Megan's random happening posts. They are terrific. And they always have a clever title, such as Potpourri, Sweet Nothings, Fragments, and my personal favorite, What Naught. They are collectively labeled Notes and they are my favorite to read. They also happen to be fun to write. I have a bunch to report, so I figured I'd follow her lead... imitation is the best flattery, right?
✶ Facebook, with it's users and their incessant need to "set the world straight" has taught me that the world needs all kinds of people. Yes, all kinds, and especially the kinds that bug.
✶ I say "Oh My Stars" often. Very often. Too often. It's my OMG. When it comes to written communication, I prefer real words, not acronyms, and I really (really!) like punctuation. Therefore, you won't find me texting you an OMS any time soon.
✶ Note that I've used stars for bullets.
✶ Also note that I'm not all that great at punctuation. But I'm learning, right?
✶ Speaking of Megan, she has a wasband now. As in a husband that was. That was a bad year. Bad, bad, BAD year. Divorce sucks. She's better for the wear now, but geez, that was a bad year.
✶ Jessica (often referred to as Internet Jessica, but not by me, because she's really my only Jessica) had a baby. On Groundhog Day. How many of us moms have referred to mother-hood as a never-ending episode of Bill Murray's Groundhog Day? There's some irony in that Jessica birthing a boy on Groundhog Day.
✶ Yahoo #1 is 12 now. TWELVE! I want him to stay 12. I have found that I have said this since he was seven. I think this means I'm enjoying him, yes? He enters the Junior High machine in August.
✶ I ran the Wasatch Back Relay this weekend. (Runner 5, in case you're interested and you can read other reports of this silly Wasatch Back by going here.) I was invited by a team of delightful girls, of whom I've watched for years and have yearned for fellowship. "I want to run on that team!" were my thoughts of old. "I hope some day they invite me!" I'm here to say that I have been invited. We came, we conquered third place in Women's Submasters, and Rabid would not shut up the entire time. I'm having serious night-after regrets over this one. I'm sure they grew tired of me and were happy to drop me on the curb, never to return. I can hear it now, "Someone, please, PLEASE! SHUT HER UP!" Here we are at the finish:
✶ In defense of my 29-hour yak-fest, I need to mention that I have lots of stories running about right now. Good, juicy, NO-Freaking-WAY! stories. The stories that would be out-of-this-world spectacular for future reference, and/or entertainment. Due to privacy issues – the privacy of others, that is – I must keep them from public viewing. A while back, I read a post that violated every privacy rule there is, HIPAA, Scout's Honor, cross-my-heart, you name it. Since, I've thought long and hard about others' privacy. Therefore, if you want my stories, you'll need to invite me on a run. Or something.
✶ Rabid has an Instagram! I've done marked my rabidrunner territory once again! Follow me with @rabidrunner. Or not. Whatever.
✶ Speaking of marking territories, I've been stewing over some vanity plates. What's your verdict on vanity plates? Love 'em, hate 'em?
✶ Life is good. I turned 41 last week (which reminds me that I need to document the 40th hillbilly birthday bash!) Great things are happening. An equal amount of "challenges" have come our way as well. This is the balance of life. I think. I hope all is well with you and yours.