Today I feel like hell. The kind of hell after a weekend of heavy drinking and debauchery. Know what I mean? How when you wake up you feel like you probably shouldn’t have done what you did?
It was a great weekend, don’t get me wrong. It just included some choices that now I have to deal with. Now some of you might be wondering what in tarnation I did over the weekend and is there a warrant out for my arrest or at least compromising photographs available on the internet. And my answer would be no, and yes. Read more…
A whole life story is held in a single drop.
Genetic codes and rh factors. Paternity cases and diseases.
Hope and a miracle. A life’s story, indeed all the lives and stories
Depend upon drops of blood.
The scraped knees from first rides without training wheels.
The altercations on play fields and behind bleachers.
The emotions brought by a first period’s arrival.
The cracked lips of a Minnesota winter.
The spreading wetness following the crack of a gunshot.
The slowly filling bag at the donation center.
It’s always with us.
And only when we see it in places we shouldn’t
Do we remember to be thankful.
Thankful for the blood that tells of a whole life in a single drop.
On Monday we found out Littlest is sick. Really sick.
I’m smack dab in the middle of my life. I admit that gives one a bit of a pause. What have I done and more importantly, what will I do? An accounting leads me to believe that this year should be more than possibly the end of times. It should be the year of A.S.S. (Accomplish Some Stuff) and not just be the year of P.A.S.S. (Potentially Accomplishing Some Stuff).
For as long as I can remember, numbers have controlled me. Numbers such as birth order, height, GPAs, IQ, salaries, pregnancies, loans. I have collected numbers along my life path just like everyone else bumbling along. Some of those numbers have brought me great joy (such as the years I’ve been married or the number of kids I have) while others have carried a sting. And for a non-math-loving girl, this numerical influence chafes.
But perhaps the most influential number, on a daily basis, is my weight. I cannot even estimate how many good moods I have had torpedoed by the simple act of stepping on a scale. Last week, one of my CrossFit inspirations shared a link to Primitive Stimulus’s blog post on reducing the influence of the scale in our lives. It also happens that the day before she linked Jason Seib’s blog I started my day in my traditional manner: use the potty, weigh myself, make coffee. By the second act of my day, my previously good mood had evaporated at seeing a number I just really, really didn’t like. Poof! A great mood gone.