“Day in Photos” started when I realized there were a lot of photos in my phone that maybe didn’t fit whatever topic I was writing about during the day/week. Now look at it. Just look at it! It’s become a successful way to share a whole bunch of photos, very few words, and still count as a blog post!
Let’s begin –
brand
I’m madly in love with my logo and what my sister gifted me with on our birthday: branded apparel. I truly enjoy advertising for other small, local, women-owned, military-owned, etc brands – and will continue to do so – but I also need to share my own!
oh the drama
No matter how many times I say ‘the foam roller is not a toy’ it never fails to become a group activity. Not really a group type of girl. Solo foam rolling is much appreciated. Unbeknownst to me, some people have no clue what a foam roller is or what it does. All I can say is it hurts so good!
sister, sister
Leaving you with this photo of my twin. It’s been nice catching up lately. Never a dull moment when she’s around!
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I ask you –
How often are you shocked at the number of phone photos you have amassed?
Are there items in your home with the designation “not a toy'”?
Trampoline places are the equivalent of a relatively inexpensive way to discover you have a weak pelvic floor. Also, supportive sports bras should be required. Some women will regret their choices tomorrow.
mini doing a happy dance
Having a “date” with my (only) child somehow always ends with ice cream. And by ends I mean ice cream is the whole point of the date! There are few rules on girl’s date night/day so ice cream could be at 9am or 9pm. I make the rules around here. Braums is our regular hangout, but Dairy Queen will do in a pinch. We didn’t have Braums on the east coast so I’m making up for lost time. According to my internal ice cream tracker, I’m behind approximately 6.76 years.
Morgan from Oregon
Speaking of daughter dates, it would be sad not to include my childhood best friend in this post! Morgan and I grew up together. She remembers my Dad, that’s how far back our friendship goes. If you’ll recall, she and I ran the 2018 Rock n’ Roll New Orleans Half Marathon, as well as this past December’s Stars at Night Half Marathon in San Antonio. Morgan has a huge heart and I’m so thankful for her friendship! Her love of Mexican food is my next favorite thing. Bonus: her birthday is 2 days after mine. I’m sure our parents were just overjoyed when we ingeniously thought of joint birthday parties.
“work day”
You’d think after nearly a year of part time teleworking we could get this figured out. You’d think, but… My work from home days are still a confusing piece of the week mixed with a little frustration, lots of annoyed looks, and sometimes some tears. Lucky guess on what belongs to whom. I’m eternally grateful to games, letter boards, badminton, and whatever the above photo shows of this shaker glue thingy. It makes it to where I can get approximately 3 minutes of work done before moving on to the next thing or playing maid.
I’ve heard it said going to work is hard. I disagree. Staying home is harder. And somehow louder. Yet the 3 mins to do some work before interruption is still the same. Imagine that.
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I ask you –
Do you have regular dates with your child(ren)? How often does it include ice cream?
Did you and your childhood best friend bond over a close birthdate?
Cross training? What’s that? Admittedly, I know I should be cross training during a training cycle, but usually what happens is I get so focused on running, it’s all I want/make time to do. Terrible, Coach.
Balance?!
This time, I’m following my own tried-and-true advice! Instead of walking or, my personal favorite, more running – introducing cycling! Let me tell you my quads were sufficiently sore after only 15 mins of cycling. The glute pain lasted much longer. Seems cycling mimics downhill running very well which will be super helpful at May’s Texas Triple because there’s a short section on each lap that kills my quads! If you allow it to happen, turnover on the downhill portion will have you running a 5 min/mile. Athletes who regularly do this are mind blowing. P.S. the number mentioned isn’t a guess, I personally saw my watch register this pace as I was flying down the hill. Exhilarating and a little scary! Stopping? Impossible!
As usual, I digress. Regular cycling should be helpful this time around. Worst case scenario: I develop overly muscular quads and thighs then run like a wiener dog. Unlikely. These bird legs of mine have required much of me to embrace.
In terms of cycling, guess who has almost successfully taught her mini to ride a bicycle sans training wheels?! It’s me!!! Pretty sure the very core of my patience has been tested, as well as every muscle in my lower back from leaning over her, but, HEY!, she’s almost there! Who needs to stand upright anyway?! She’s making great strides, no pun intended. Relatedly, I heard a story of a young lady turning 6 years old a few weeks ago and she thought upon her 6th birthday, she would somehow inherently know how to ride a bicycle then. Like – POOF! She also thought she’d be much bigger at that point, too, so here we are.
My birthday is this weekend. Lucky 13. I’m not sure what I ever envisioned mid-30’s looking like, but I hope I wake up that morning with the ability to whistle loudly! POOF!
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I ask you –
Will cycling give me Dachshund-style legs?
How old were you when you learned to ride a bicycle? I was probably 4-5 yrs old. My siblings told me to sit on a “big bike” then proceeded to push me down the front walkway. It was sink or swim time and I was full speed ahead from then on!
In current world news, on today’s newest episode of “I’m seriously not qualified for this job!”, I’ve been tasked with talking to a teenage girl about how underage drinking and smoking are very serious and should not be taken lightly. Great, just great. Not qualified, under qualified, whatever you want to say. This was not included in the parenthood guide! Well, maybe it was, but the kind doctors and nurses simply forgot to give me mine when they gave me all the other paperwork to complete post-birth. I was robbed!
simpler times
I’m not cut out for the enormous responsibility of these oh-so-important life talks. I genuinely don’t know what to say. But then I think back to working with children from unimaginable hardship. In a leadership position, I climbed my way up; somehow I did it then. Younger, more confident perhaps? Now I just sit here cringing, thinking WHY ME?! Again, I’m not qualified. No joke, Kel. My mother told us the story of her father finding out she smoked. She said her father made her smoke an entire cigar (his poison of choice) as punishment/lesson learning/complete craziness if you ask me. She said it was awful. Plot twist: it didn’t make her quit smoking though. She just learned she didn’t like the taste of cigars. Seriously not helpful, Mom. I can, with complete honesty, say I have never smoked anything. Not once. The smell of cigarettes gives me the feeling of all the oxygen being pulled from my lungs. Can’t make this up. I literally feel like I can’t breathe. And I can smell cigarette smoke from other cars if sitting in traffic. Weird, I know. Smoking may be the grossest habit anyone can have. But it is a habit and I know too many who have struggled to quit because it’s truly an addiction. As for drinking? Let’s just say – when I think back to what I used to do, I’m lucky to be alive; we’ll leave it at that.
The advice given to me was to talk about the safety aspects: cancer, juvenile record, even death. Sounds harmless, no pun intended. I feel like if I cap it off with a sentence sounding like ‘I was once your age and I did the same things, blah blah blah’ then it’s a well rounded conversation. Yet somehow this feels like a giant cop out – back to the unqualified statement. On the subject again of my misplaced parenthood book, it probably states do not include stories of your own teenage misadventures. But I imagine it doesn’t give you other available options either. Those of you in possession of this elusive book, feel free to chime in, please.
my face after ‘the talk”
There’s no winning here, is there? I suppose we just do what’s best in the moment, hope it turns out alright, and pray our children don’t end up in a mess only a miracle can fix. But there is a little voice inside me screaming ‘I’ll be damned if my child behaves this way!!’. She probably will. Face it now, Kel. My time is coming.
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I ask you –
Did you get a book?! If you did, can I borrow it?
Any weird adverse reactions to another’s addictive habits?
Tell me what I should say! P.S. this isn’t my child I’m talking to. She’s 4. Let’s not rush things.
I’m no adrenaline junkie, but when in the right place at a terrible time, you throw on your coat, grab gloves and snow boots, and run a block to help remove nursing home residents from a burning building. It’s like bronchitis but with more coughing. Thankfully everyone is okay. I’m so blessed to have been able to help and speak with the kindest people. Ms. Joyce may never read this; however, she was inspirational in her strength and testimony of God’s power to save. Apologies on my terrible wheelchair driving abilities. She was very forgiving.
Super sledding! All the years of minimal snow really paid off. Could’ve left off the below freezing temperatures though. That vacation home at the ocean wouldn’t even have saved me this time. We got a lot of laughs moving to Texas with 3 snow boards. haHA! Who’s laughing now?!
But there have been many gems of awesomeness to exit the mouth of my baby. At day 2 of no internet connectivity, she exclaimed in true dramatic fashion “Total darkness!” I make her walk uphill, barefoot, in the snow, too.
waiting on her friends to call back
She also enjoys speaking into the 1-way handheld scanner as if the police department can hear her. If anyone is searching for her channel, she can be reached at her handle, “Kaylee Donut Lord”. I kid you not.
When I shared with mini that her dad was sick, went to get medication for himself, and ended up with a cracked windshield, she said “Why didn’t he call JG Wentworth?” so they could “give him money!” She has all the life advice you could ever need.
no survivors
Lastly, it took a few too many days for us to realize the noises originating outside were not from birds hitting the windows but instead from an explosion of soda cans. Apparently the mini fridge was not insulated. This must be how the local 7-11 makes slushies. Now you know.
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I ask you –
Is your phone overcrowded with dozens of random photos?
Need some life advice from a 4-year-old?
Happy to be back in the 50°/60° temperatures this week. Hallelujah, we made it!
Some days I wake up overwhelmed with thankfulness. Granted some days I also wake up confused and exhausted. Overall, though, the early morning hours hold my best, most sincere, well thought out prayers. In the quiet moments before the world gets loud and busy, I’m able to write, think, and prepare for the day ahead. He meets me exactly where I am.
just one thought? more is better!
If negativity is a mindset, then it’s my duty to remind you this: so is joy. What a life-changing moment when I stopped (try) to remember we are all flawed humans living in an imperfect world. I ask for joy to permeate hearts rather than lambasting the flippant words of a hurt heart. My lightbulb began to flicker, then roared to full power.
Suddenly there was a change! Perhaps it was my viewpoint which also needed a tune up…when we change our own thoughts, those of others can be changed, as well.
There’s no moral to this story except to choose joy. At all times. In each moment. And especially when around others. One kind word can be the difference between speaking life or death over another. How tough is it? Immeasurably. Not for the faint of heart – or them who dislike going all in – it’s a true commitment. I am only human and fail often.
Resolve to find happiness in even the trying-est of times. Recently I attended a funeral for a man I might have met once, but was a blessing to other family members. He lived a brave life and his battle with inner ailments ultimately overpowered his body. Even though I didn’t know him personally, those that spoke of him expressed much joy for his life. To be remembered in such a way would seem to be the highest honor. The jokes they had about him, his wife…really his whole family…wow!
And because every serious post here must be accompanied by some humor as only I can achieve…I kept my lips locked tight before, during, and after the service so as not to endear myself to proverbial strangers as ‘that girl who said the wrong thing.’ Like I did the other day when my Mom told me “I got your PaPa back.” (If you’ll recall my grandfather passed on Election Day, fitting as it was.) My mother calmly reminded me my grandfather’s wishes to be cremated. But I still didn’t understand what she was saying. As the pause stretched on, she eventually answered my silent question; he returned to her in a small box. Now, he resides on a shelf. And still something about this strikes me as funny. PaPa is on a shelf. He was a small, elfin-stature of a man. Perfect, just perfect.
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I ask you –
Is there a mantra that carries you from day to day?
More often than not, do you wake up confused or thankful?
Elf of the Shelf reference notwithstanding, I’m sure my PaPa thought I was his funniest grandchild!
In a sickness-induced haze, I dreamt the following post:
1. I’d love to create a bookstore/winery. Imagine this – floor to ceiling dark, wooden bookshelves with a vast winery stretching into the distance. Each room surrounded with oversized comfy chairs and a fireplace in each corner. You heard it here first.
2. I also want to own a bakery. Sugar is my first love. From the very first time I realized the magic that happens when you cream butter and sugar together, I knew I was destined to be a baker. I say again – who eats cookies and cries? There was that one time, but it was due to extenuating circumstances. I’ll name each sugar-laden delectable a long, gloriously ridiculous name like “marshmallow magic butterflies covered in unicorn glitter”. P.S. I hate glitter and marshmallows.
3. Combine the two previous ideas with a running store and coffee shop. Of course the name of my blog could serve this idea well. Because after imbibing in wine, coffee, cookies, and remaining sedentary for hours, you’re going to need a new pair of shoes!
Currently I’m accepting cash and PayPal payments to go towards the necessary functions of becoming a business owner of which I have little experience in doing, but I can learn!
my co-owner and I
Also, in case you were concerned, my husband may or may not have tried to get rid of me by killing me with his cooking. Jokes on him. We both ended up with what I presume to be food poisoning so either he really didn’t intend to also hurt himself or he screwed up the plates. haHA I live to make his life hard another day!
But seriously. Food poisoning sucks. And it wasn’t his cooking. I’d almost take gastro onboard a floating chunk of steel than ever do this again. Almost.
__________________
I ask you –
Which of the 3 options above is most likely to succeed?
It was the end of a long, tough day. From discussion earlier, I had stated I was going home to eat cookie dough with the intention of it making me feel better, to heal my sad heart. The other person said they were going to drink beer. To each his own. As I scooped out bites of cookie dough – sugar free – the tears came. The grief that was building poured from me. My final thought? Great. Now I’m still sad, even full of cookie dough.
Which reminds me of when I was pregnant with my mini. One night I sat on the couch eating my favorite chocolate chip cookies. And I began to cry. Then I cried more, without any reason at all because hormones are hell, and my thought was this: Who cries while eating cookies?! Only a pregnant woman.
Before I forget, prior to the cookie-dough-and-crying fest, I developed what I now know as “amazonesia”. It’s a thing. Minus the part about Amazon and the part about amnesia, I went grief shopping. Add to cart…oh look, it’s pink, add to cart. Retail therapy is the other moniker.
clearly I needed more shoes
And, if you’re reading this, then I have survived the run streak. Hmmmm. There is a schedule button, so perhaps not. They say it takes roughly 21 days to develop a habit. At day 25, the constant daily running began to become painful. But since the habit was there and the finish line so close I continued to run despite some questionable MCL/ACL bruising. If you recall, I took several weeks off when training for a December half marathon so hopefully there isn’t a pattern emerging. (Full disclaimer: I wrote the above lines prior to completing the run streak because I full well intended to complete it. Alas, my body had other plans and Day 27 was officially my final day of streaking. Huge thanks to the poisoning o’food I received. Too bad it wasn’t February already because then I would have only been short a day. Life goes on.) And if anything good was to come of hours upon hours of living inside my bathroom, I did write an incredibly funny blog post; stand by.
One month to recuperate then it’s time to begin training again. Unless I’ve already decided to start running again by the time you read this. That’s always possible, too.
______________________
I ask you –
What are your grieving habits?
Have you heard of Amazonesia?
Share a time something good came of something horrible.
Interestingly enough, my mini now prefaces all the photos she takes with a huge, dramatic sigh and the words “Are you going to put this on the blog?” Ummmm yeah, of course I am.
me need stool, me is short
And if you ever wondered – fairly sure you haven’t because WHY would you – if PMS had a truly physical characteristic, like something you could really see on the outside, it’s this. I was craving pizza so bad, I had my husband drive me to the grocery store. In my pajamas! In my robe and slippers, if it’s not clear enough. This. This is what I’ve come to.
smiling because I’m getting pizza
Lastly, I was eating pizza for breakfast one morning. Could have probably omitted that admission from thisstory. Suddenly a memory came back of mini putting a too hot piece of pizza in her mouth. Instead of spitting the piece out or doing any of the easiest options, she requests I blow into her mouth. I’d like to say I didn’t, I’d like to tell you all I laughed at this ridiculousness, I’d like to say lots of things here besides what actually happened. I blew air into her mouth. Because I have zero sense and would do literally anything to ensure she doesn’t needlessly suffer.
True, unfailing love is mostly without boundaries. All this work for naught.
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I ask you –
Do you keep a stool in your kitchen?
Have you ever wondered what PMS looks like? Wonder no more!
I’ve tasked myself with re-posting some of the previous almost 2 years’ best posts. Best is in my opinion, of course. I should really get started on this soon.
early shot
You know what is easy? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. When it’s easy, I get suspicious. So putting this together is bound to be fraught with bumps and bruises. My adviser – whom would most definitely crack up if she heard I’m calling her this – said I’d put so much work into myself the past year, then asked what else should we address this year? At the time I had no retort. I’ve got it! Let’s go back to all that old sh*t and rehash it. No, not that stuff, the other stuff. Growth happens when we’re willing to face it head on. Or, in my case, run from it long enough to crash spectacularly then give in.
(This goal brought to you by social media.) Wouldn’t you know the very first person recommended to “be my friend” was my ex-husband? Wonderful but I’ll pass. A very good friend emailed me about avoiding the drama and crazies – so sorry, Dan, it was crazy right out of the gate. Good thing those expectations were low. And if you didn’t know I was married before, well now you do. Maybe I’ll tell you the story one day. I should probably ask permission first. Wait one.
It’s been fun seeing people I grew up with, went to college with, stalking my best friends I met in the Navy, judging people’s terrible grammar…you know, the usual things I do. Shouldn’t have admitted that, Kel. To be fair, surely others are doing the same to me. Not the grammar part though. Too, two, to. Opening up to strangers the opportunity to pass their own two cents is terrifying yet comical because I promise my ability to find out anything on anyone is unrivaled. Trust me. Don’t test me. I’m trying very hard not to resort to some old ways and I don’t have time for a prison stint.
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I ask you –
Do you know the difference between too, to, and two?
Share a favorite song!
Tell me something about you others wouldn’t easily guess!
Running on Fumes 
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