Sunday, Sunday...

Once again, life has grabbed me by the arm and swung me around. I have a few days worth of posts to catch up on. While I sit with my girls as they try to go to sleep during the storm, I thought I might take advantage of this down time and update my blog.

Friday: Fourth of July! Happy Birthday America. What does any all American, bleeding red, white and blue family do? Why we paint the ice at one of our rinks. As luck would have it one of my girls wasn't feeling well and the weather was kind of crummy. So when my husband called and said he needed our crew of kids and me to help out at the rink, it was Team Robinson to the rescue!!! We came swooping in with trays of chicken cutlet parmigiana in tow for all of our wonderful employees who worked so hard to get the rink ice rebuilt. We pitched in so we could get the grunt work done. We left around 9 or so. On the way home we stopped and watched some fireworks being lit off by one of the subdivisions near our home. When we drove through our subdivision there was so much smoke hanging in the heavy, humid air. We had a storm blow through that had 60 mile and hour winds, knocking down trees and leaving a path of devastation. But the folks in our little community love their fireworks and something like a storm was not going to stop them from illuminating the night sky. I told my husband it looked like we just walked in on the remnants of the last gun fight at the OK Corral. The smoke and gunpowder smell was overpowering. It looked like we were stuck in a fog the likes of which flesh eating zombies would come crawling out from in a horror flick.

I guess working on the ice was our training for the day.

Saturday: Whoopee! Today is Erin's slumber party. Oh how I have waited for this day! No, not really, of course I am being sarcastic! There is nothing like a pack of 9 year old girls to fight over everything and nothing until 4 in the morning. Couple that with the fact that I was trying to keep them quiet because my husband worked for 30 straight hours with no sleep and I was ready to flog a pack of kids. The best part was the party girl, my daughter, behaved the most abhorrently. Another day of no training, I am started to like this! No, no of course I miss my training, I think mostly I have missed my training buddy.

Sunday: Here I am acting like a short order cook for a bunch of cranky, underslept 9 year olds. I actually had one little sprite tell me I needed to feed my family healthier foods. This came about because I let my daughter pick whatever she wanted for breakfast and she chose bacon, egg and cheese biscuits, like the kind at McDonalds. Not that she refused her breakfast, or any of the treats put out for the party.

When the guests left, Brad and I set out for a two hour run. Another whoopee moment for me considering I farted around with party guest until after 3. Then my dog Beau had to go out at 6. Oh boy, a three hour night of sleep, why yes honey, I am unbelievably ready for a two hour run! I can hardly wait. Anyway, enough of my grousing, off we went. It seemed wayyy longer then two hours. The first hour went great. I did actually feel amazing for it. The next fifteen minutes weren't too bad either. It was the last 45 minutes that had Brad running in front of me, me with both my earbuds in and us not talking. Then, in the last 10 minutes, after we got back into our subdivision I had to stop. My tummy felt realllllly weird. Brad doesn't understand stopping for any reason. What, my arm is dangling and hanging on by a vein, must...get...to...the...finish line...must barf when I am done or I haven't raced hard enough. Me, I don't mind stopping if it prevents a problem like pooping in my shorts, or keeping me from barfing like a beer guzzling frat brother. We are two totally different competitors. I admire him and wish I could be that fierce, but I just don't think like that.

Maybe someday, and that might be the day that I find myself actually pleased with how I do instead of walking around saying at least I finished.