We had Cecilia’s parent-teacher conference last week. I really like her teacher this year. I specifically like that she’s open to the new methods but recognizes that the older techniques still have merit. In short, I’m glad I can understand some of the math homework each week without having to lookup and re-learn how to add 2 digit numbers.
After spending the first few months of the year on learning the underlying concepts, third graders are finally moving toward rote memorization. That means flashcards! I love flashcards. Part of my courtship strategy with Michelle was to create flashcards for her in college. It was only during the last house move that I was finally convinced to throw away a box of rubber banded flashcards dating back to freshman year high school biology.
Do you think I let eating alone stop me from making pizza? Hell, no.
Michelle and Cecilia were out at a birthday party. Allison was home, but as long as the Netflix was streaming and the mac ’n cheese was cheesy enough, she would leave me alone.
So, I had a Friday night free and I was determined to find out if Trader Joe’s cauliflower pizza crust was worth the hype.
My knee has been feeling a lot better in the last two weeks. So much better than I’m nervous my body is screwing with me and it’s all going to come crashing down at any moment and leave me hobbling around again and finally understanding the merits of a cane.
I don’t know what’s made the difference, which is what has me nervous, but also hopeful that at least something is working. I’m not sure if it’s the three times a week I’m doing a 20 minute simple strength routine, the daily foam rolling or the extra stretching. Maybe it’s just time and rest. Or voodoo.
It’s likely a combination of all of them. But probably voodoo.
There is this coat. Cecilia wants it. She wants it bad. For the first time, she won’t be put off with vague assertions of waiting until Christmas or her birthday. She needs it. If she doesn’t get it a small piece of her soul will be lost and no matter how long she lives or how much happiness she might find, her life will never be complete. That kind of coat.
Maybe this is more of a girl thing. I don’t remember ever wanting anything to tears. If I did covet anything it was probably an expansion floppy disk for SimCity or an omnibus edition of the complete works of Arthur C. Clarke or something equally and deeply dorky. Nothing worth crying over. Maybe time or self-preservation has dulled my memory.
This started on Wednesday with a brief mention of girls wearing these reversible coats at school, but it built to a crescendo by Friday afternoon and threatened to spiral out of control. Alone with the girls, I hit the panic button and called Michelle at work. She was able to use her Mom superpowers, or maybe her own memories of that bedazzled jean jacket she wanted, and talk Cecilia off the ledge.
In June, just after a triathlon, I suddenly started having serious knee pain. It was completely out of the blue. My buildup for the race had been great and while it was unexpectedly hot on race day, there was no pain or discomfort in the knee during the race. I took a few days off. Did a light jog and couldn’t finish.
I haven’t ran more than a mile since. I’ve actually barely ran at all due to what was ultimately diagnosed as arthritis.
Finally, after weeks of resting, stretching, strengthening and biking, I’ve slowly started running again. Talk about seven minutes in heaven!
Going from 30 – 40 miles per week the last few years to 0 was difficult. Really difficult. Both mentally and physically.