And That is Beautiful

And that is beautiful.

And that is beautiful.

Miles run today: 10

Weeks I’ve not written in my blog: 11

Days until the end of the school year: 1

No one in the world ever gets what they want and that is beautiful
Everybody dies frustrated and sad and that is beautiful

They Might Be Giants, “Don’t Let’s Start”

My story starts: I was grumpy.

And don’t say that I am always grumpy. Just mostly more than usual and after 9 a.m. and before 9 p.m. but not always.

So I was grumpy. My family had signed up to do a neighborhood Adventure Run, and all I really wanted to do was loll about and not speak and read my book. But we were headed for the clubhouse under dark, threatening skies.

“You don’t want to be here, do you?” my husband asked.

“Not even a little bit,” I said. I have been told that when I am not smiling, my face is not altogether attractive, just to give you the visuals.

And after a slight delay, the skies opened up. Huge, thick, black clouds let loose, and big tiger paw drops of water sprinted for the ground as we huddled under the clubhouse’s overhang with the other families.

I was not amused.

But then the rain slowed down, and all of the little kids started stomping in the puddles, and the grownups shifted about from one foot to the other.

“Let’s get started!” the leader of the race (and a friend) yelled. “We’ll have a staggered start. Woodmans? Go!”

Whoa. My husband drove to the obstacle station he would be manning… a huge catapult he built out of jeans, exercise bands and wood.

The kids and I sprinted for where we thought we should be headed.

Thank goodness I had worn my old running shoes. My feet squelched through the mud, and the trees we ran past were heavy with the damp. We stopped and balanced on boards at one obstacle, filled buckets of water at another, and scooted under ropes at another.

We had to cross the neighborhood creek six times. It was swollen with water, so jumping across was not an option; we waded, and it was wet and cool.

We ran and screamed and cheered, and the weeds tore at my calves.

It was the best time I’d had in months.

Minus the tick I found on my leg in the shower a little while later, I would say it turned out to be a fun, muddy, kid-like day.

Maybe part of the lesson is that we often don’t know what we want… or what will be good for us. And that is beautiful.

These past few months have been challenging. But thank you for checking in on me!

The blogging community is a loving one. To my wonderful blogging friends who sent messages to check on me 1. after the Boston Marathon (as if I could qualify!) (thanks, Dennis!) and those who sent me Mother’s Day messages (thanks, Amy!) and those who sent plaintive comments (thanks, Mike!): thank you, my friends.

I have missed you and my wonderful little life!

Yes, I have toppled off balance, and as one of my favorite ’90s bands might say, “That is beautiful.”

Because life isn’t ever exactly what you would expect, now, is it? And the whole God laughing when you plan thing has not ever stopped me from planning… no siree, Bob.

Eight things I have learned about myself since I started back to work full-time:

1. I can actually be a fairly grumpy person, though the bubbly person might still be in there somewhere.

2. I may never again be awake to see 11 p.m.

3. I still love bunnies.

4. Twitter is a fun and productive diversion when you are brainstorming creative concepts.

5. Sometimes I fantasize about being in bed, and not in a fun, sexy way.

6. I will do most anything to keep running and keep eating chocolate.

7. Mean people suck.

8. I may be one of those mean people because I am not always a good friend.

To those of you who are still writing, I will check back in from time to time, but not for every post. I apologize in advance.

To those of you who are still reading my stuff, thank you. That is beautiful.

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