Today was actually proving to be different, though. I started out with the blue-light, along with two cups of coffee (that'd be four sugar cubes, if you're counting), and was all raring to go when Emilia finally decided to wake up. We had a quick breakfast, and got ourselves ready for a quick run. She insisted on wearing her 'running pants', which are a pair of bright pink cropped leggings she wore throughout the summer. So, I insisted on putting layer upon layer over her to keep her toasty warm, kind of in the manner of the mother in A Christmas Story. (You know, 'I can't put my arms down!') Anyway, our run was fabulous, and I was in desperate need of it. You know that feeling when your body starts to hurt because it is begging for exercise, please? That has been me for the past week or so. (When I called my lovely husband at work and told him we had gone running, the wise ass, er, I mean the really nice guy said: 'You feeling alright?' Hmpf!
After our run, we took Governor on a walk, got cleaned up, and then ended up at St. Edward's park, where Emilia played on the swings, slide, and we ran and ran around on the grass. (The weather was quite gorgeous today, blue-light notwithstanding.) Then we came home, had lunch, and made Christmas cookies. Hers were covered in sprinkles of every color, while mine were of the green and red variety. We then cleaned the kitchen (again), did some laundry, read books, and the little girl went down for her nap. And now I am beyond tired.
Actually I suppose where it all went down hill was when I sat in front of the computer. Oh, how I hate this contraption. It is sooooo sloooow anymore. As Michael says, you can click on something, go out for a bite, and come back only to wait some more. The whole blogger site is the worst of all. It is so beyond frustrating to work on these days, it is about to bring me to my knees. Now everytime I sit down, I can feel the energy being sapped right out of me. So rather than do any more wailing and gnashing of teeth (think I've had my fill of that for the day), I think I will just go make a cup of tea and retire to the dining room with my book. I'm reading a fabulous, fabulous book right now: Julia Child's My Life in France. Although, truth be told, I think this book holds a great deal of responsibility in regard to my discontent. Can you even imagine a life like that? Not the telly show and the writing of a classic cookbook, but the rest of it? You know, living in Paris and then Marseilles and all, going to cooking school, and most of all, seeing things and doing things. Oh, I'm so jealous! Love her as I may, I'm so so jealous. (And do you know, they did all of this on just over $9,000 a year, well, until The Book was published, anyway. It shocks the conscience.)
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