Toe Up From The Flo’ Up… or in this case, The Trace.
Rambler: resists the listening with all her might & mouth. What happens when a loud mouth is forced to listen?
My last post was about breaking routines, deviating from the regular route, living wild and free (so long as you have a superbly generous babysitter). These time-as-open-as-a-field days were beautifully lazy. They mostly consisted of not doing the things I was supposed to. I enjoyed them so much I took another and another and then 30.… Continue reading Giddy up… or just anywhere, really.
Sometimes I suction on very small spandex pants, wear a sporty watch, and pretend to be an athlete. Such days are typically followed by weeks of absolute stillness, but that’s hardly important. For 45 minutes on a glorious Sunday morning, I am a mileage-dominating beast whose sweat reeks of victory. I couldn’t tell you if it… Continue reading The House of The Lord (Has A Fitness Room)
Like with every other act of parenting, I put on my straight face and made things up. I saw a glimpse into the future with a toddler listening to Dashboard Confessional while crying fresh tears into his black nail polish and let me tell you one thing: Mama ain’t about all that.