I’d like to write a post about my oldest and the boy who asked her out last week (as in middle school ‘going out’). The way the whole thing went down is a really good story. I’m probably safe saying she said no. But I can’t write anything else.
I’d like to write about some of the jokes that were flying around my table Saturday night. Words like starfish now have an entirely new meaning to me. I cannot remember the last time I laughed so much for so long. But those jokes really aren’t appropriate to share so I can’t.
I’d like to write about how frustrated I am with the entire kindergarten experience. Three kids in this house have been through kindergarten and I’m 0 for 3 on positive experiences. On second thought, I might actually write about this one… but not today. Today I wouldn’t be very nice about it.
I’d like to write about how helpless I feel when I hear people who are strong, beautiful, sexy, smart women get down on themselves because of a number on a scale. I just don’t understand how happiness can be defined by an arbitrary number instead of the blessings that are inherent in a body that can run for miles & miles, care for children, teach others and do so much. But since I’m feeling helpless about that I don’t exactly know what to write.
I’d like to write about the somewhat out-of-body experience I’m having these days when I realize that I’ve signed up to run a marathon in less than two weeks. You’d think all the training, black toes and sore muscles would make it all seem quite real – but it doesn’t – so I can’t write about it.
I’d like to write something more interesting than a list of random topics. But today, that’s all I’ve got.