A little late in the day, but I’ll still leech onto Katie’s roundup designed to make us feel a bit better about today being the day of the week I most resemble grumpy cat (the resemblance still exists the other days, but isn’t nearly as striking).
After the rocky start to my weekend Friday, my tummy finally settled down around 9:30. Playing it safe, I stuck to my single girl dinner of days gone by:
Woke up Saturday and knew 2 things were certain: I probably SHOULDN’T run yet, and I was totally going to. The sky was a creepy overcast gray, and I’m a terrible morning runner, but I got in my 5 miles. I’d gotten in my new compression socks last week and hadn’t had a chance to test them out yet! I didn’t notice much difference, but maybe once the distances get a bit greater they’ll come into play more. For all the grumbling I do about morning workouts, I will say this: virtually nobody on the path I ran wasn’t also running, and it was kind of nice to be part of the Saturday morning run community. There’s a tight head nod that we give that seems to say “respect” much as the way a fist bump would. My pace is coming back to pre-surgery levels, and while 9:15 isn’t cause for excitement in most runners I know, I’ll totally take it.
Saturday night rolled around, and then this happened:
yeah, that picture does things no justice. We finally hit the new Korean place, Yami, for a bibimbap. There was an egg on top that cooked in as you stir things around. It was SO good, but I had the hottest hot pot bowl and it got my rice kinda crispy on the bottom. I won the lottery there! It was good but also really similar to beef fried rice? Regardless, I foresee times in my future where that’s totally going to hit the spot. After the dinner, Jeff was super full (I totally dominated him in the “I can eat more than you dept”) and we scrapped our plans to find a new Speakeasy in town and headed to the Red Box instead. It had been kind of picked over, but we grabbed World War Z and The Great Gatsby. We popped Gatsby in when we got home, around 830, and I kid you not-Jeff was out in like 10 minutes. I surfed, I knitted, I laid around on the couch before I was that obnoxious bee flicking his ear trying to wake him up to head to bed. Fun fact: my husband sleeps like the dead. He fell asleep at my aunt and uncles once and they laughed at me-it took a good 10 minutes to wake him up. Usually I give up and let him sleep on the couch after some semi-conscious groans and displeasure are voiced, but he looked super awkward and I knew his neck would hurt the next day if I let him sleep there all night. That’s a thoughtful wife for you-I’ll annoy the crap out of you to wake you up, all in the selfless name of no cricks in the neck.
Sunday was another run day, brunch at the egg and I-no pics, oops, and homemade pizza to cap the night. Nothing too stellar or outrageous happened, but it was a darn good day. Here’s Foster in his “aren’t I pathetic? Now can I have that food you have?” pose:
I think he feels like the flatter he is to the floor, the more pathetic he seems. And while that’s not untrue…you still can’t have my pizza, buddy.