In January of 2006 Michael came home from a long ride and spontaneously announced, “I know where we’re going live”. Which was odd because I’m usually the spontaneous one. But there he was, pulling a Susan. And I’m positive his decision had nothing to do with the house being located right smack in the middle of his cycling route. But he was right and it was so perfect, and in a few days we were the owners of two and half acres of beautifully wooded property in the middle of nowhere.
What a long building process it’s been, an emotional range of shock, fun, exhaustion, and excitement – with a little stress thrown in for good measure. And since the beginning, and from here on out, our home has been affectionately referred to as The Knollie Witch Project.*
Now finally, more than a year later, we’ve gone from dirt to house and we’re in the homestretch. Down to the nitty gritty, pretty pretty fun stuff – like the color selection of tiles, granite and walls. And just when you think it can’t get any better, a ray of light opens in the sky and your front door is gently lowered into place. The front door we took weeks to design, and by we I mean me, me and all my twirly, swirly, flowy glorious doorly me-ness. And it’s so beautiful it makes you want to rip off the plastic and slather it with tongue juice until the cows come home.
So if I’ve been a little more scatterbrained than usual and it seems as if my comment gene has all but disappeared, bear with me. I’ll be back to normal soon, or as normal as a Runner Susan can be.
Oh, about that one small problem. In my current house I am fortunate enough to be only about five minutes away from numerous shopping malls. When I move I’ll be very far away – the nearest mall will be about eighteen minutes away. Which is a definitely a problem if you need that emergency pair of platform pumps or black gaucho capris.**
Of course, that might have been dear Michael’s plan from the very beginning.
*Forever grateful for the naming – thanks to the toast-hating, movie-making, former Texan/Hoosier, and current Aussie, Katy.
**Much thanks to Kate, the girl with the secret blog, for her mapping mallness artistic talent.
I know exactly what you are thinking: “Where’s the blue?” Me too. I can’t believe I don’t own a single blue shirt.
I’ve spent hours organizing. I’ve donated 12 garbage bags of clothing that doesn’t fit me to the local charity. It felt good to let those things go. Now I regret not taking a before picture.
I will do my best to keep it this way. This is my new year’s resolution to the man who hasn’t said a word about the 40 lemons or gallon of grade B maple syrup sitting in our refrigerator.
Have mercy on the fashion whore.
Tuesday was a great morning to run. Marathena, Massoman and I each did our individual workouts on the track. Mine was a 20 minute tempo with a one-mile warm up and cool down. Tempo pace was 9:42 per mile. But the best part of the run was when Marathen and I decided to run the Houston Marathon in January! I’m not sure if I should be excited or panicked, so we’ll choose excited and I’ll add that to my list of races.
Wednesday was an easy 3-mile with Massman and BW. My Nano wasn’t working so I was a little more chatty than usual. I also attended a real yoga class at my friend Sherry’s studio. It was much needed. I’m sure Yoga Boyfriend was more than happy to stay in his box, especially after his last tongue-lashing after the prior week’s yoga abuse. After class Sherry and I went to a lovely dinner after caught up on way too many years of not keeping in touch. It was nice. If you live in the DFW area and need a good yoga session, check out Sherry’s yoga studio, InnerWisdom Yoga. Classes are very private with only a maximum of five students per session. You won’t regret it – it’s so much more than your typical yoga class.
Yesterday was an extremely bad day of cramps. This pleasure reminded me I needed to follow up with the bastard insurance company so I can schedule my uterine gutting. If my attitude doesn’t adjust a little Michael is going to gut me himself.
Today I have a 50-minute run scheduled – the first 3 miles I’ll run with Cindy and Deena. I’m really looking forward to it. Sunday I have an easy eight-mile run scheduled. Until then, enjoy this picture of my boys. Aren’t they handsome?
UPDATE: Finished the the 3-mile run with Cindy and Deena. These girls are too funny! Walked 3 Donkey miles when I got home.
And Rikki is loved, she’s just psychotic – see, we captured a prozac moment.
Reading the Running & Rambling blog entry the other day made me think – and not just about the odd girl crush we all share for Shakira and her scary snaky hips. I also receive a lot of emails about my blog, and the question, “Does your husband read this?” pops up a lot.
To a certain extent, I can understand this question. Considering my absurd obsession with placing the terms “lesbian” and “porn” with the most unlikely subjects (“Rowdy could really use a lesbian iPod in his next feature film”), it’s really a miracle I have a husband. Especially since he spends so much time laughing at my efforts, because only he knows I really have no clue.
But yes, he is aware of my blog. Although that’s not due to his super sleuthing Hardy Boys training – you can’t do something 23 hours a day and not be noticed.
More importantly, he reads it and still loves me. I am a lucky girl. Despite the PMS moaning, my constant weight obsession, my hate/love affair with running, my hair, my boobs (or lack thereof), my detailed exploration of my bowels, and exposing his secret need to catalog and categorize our refrigerator, Michael still loves me.
And it’s reciprocated. He’s private, where I feel the need to share photos of me exchanging fluids with my computer. He is brilliant, although I try not to show how sexy I find his brain. He is incredibly kind and generous, as anyone who has seen him with Kenza can attest to. And despite taking up what could be extra shoe-room with his bikes, I find his athleticism incredibly inspiring. And on a completely shallow note, after several years of marriage, he’s still hot. I think it’s amazing that I get to be with this man every day.