Monday, October 03, 2011

One tired chick.

Source: blkfrmt.com via Hola on Pinterest


Yep. I'm exhausted.  What a weekend.  What a week, really.

Before I do my little race recap (and it's going to be little--amazing how those recaps get shorter and shorter each year) about my 3rd Urban Cow Half Marathon, it bears mentioning (with apology to the chickadee above) that I made fried chicken tonight for the first time.  I think I helped my MIL make it one time but this was my first time flying solo and my first time making fried chicken breast strips.  Yum; they sure turned out well.  I used my America's Test Kitchen Cookbook and it came through for me, predictably.

We're all about health here.  Basically the secret is out that I've only been running so I can eat candy, get massages, and fry things.  The end.

Anyway.

I haven't even had time to breathe, let alone post, which bugs me.  I like blogging.  Saturday I was up at the crack of dawn to go sit at Starbucks and write for five hours.  I knew I'd do better with my first assignment for school if I was A) out of the house and B) able to work on it in one sitting and pound out a solid draft.

I don't know about solid, but I managed to eek out about eight pages (I was shooting for 8-10) of what can best be described as (to borrow a phrase from Anne Lamott) the shittiest of "shitty first drafts."  But wait! I'm okay with that.  My goal was to get something down on paper so I could leave it alone for a week and go back to it with enough time to revise.  The draft was my first assignment for school--8-10 pages for my creative nonfiction class, which is kind of like my minor for this term.  This week I'll be working on fiction.  EVERY week I'll be working on reading, reading, reading.  Writing is and will always be a difficult exercise for me, but I really enjoy it.  I lose time.  Those five hours blurred by.

What did I write about?  Funerals.  Yeah, I know.  I'm a real barrel of monkeys.

And apropos of nothing, I feel like posting about how annoyed I am with my students' misunderstanding and glaring misuse of every single punctuation mark in the English language, but I know that to do so would invoke Muphry's Law (yes, Muphry, not Murphy--look it up, it's funny and painfully true) and invite the smarter-than-me masses to shoot well-deserved darts of criticism my way.  No worries.  I already know I suck at the technicalities of writing.  So I won't do that because it would be too awful... but let me say that there is something serious going on with the semicolon lately.

So,  anyway.  Saturday morning was writing and Saturday afternoon was going to be grading.  E had the kids at his parents' house so I was planning to finish up all my papers.  Not so, said Fate.  The fam came home early, I got distracted and the whole thing went to heck in a hand grenade.  Before I knew it, it was time to do all my pre-race activities (like frantically dig the running clothes out of the hamper to wash them at 8:00 PM). I figured I'd grade Sunday.

Sunday was the race, which was amazeballs, but then it was also bigtimeimportantMockTrial time.  The kids had a scrimmage and the race already made me late so I had just enough time to shower and high-tail it to school for the rest of the day.  My legs were so uncomfortable that I couldn't sit in a chair; I ended up leaning up against a wall on the floor for the rest of the afternoon.

Needless to say I came home Sunday night and dropped.  I was in bed by 7:45 and out by 8:30.

And that, my friends, is why this is my first post since Friday.

Amen.


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