The hazards of cleaning

I decided to be all housewifey the other day and dust every surface of my house.  This doesn't happen very often, I mean, I dust, but not everything.   You know what I'm talking about, you clean the same basic things over and over...but every once in awhile the tops of your dresser and books and windows have to be wiped down when you can see 2 inches of dust on them.  Or maybe you don't, maybe you regularly clean everything all the time...but I doubt it.  So since I'm too short to reach the top of the windows, I decided to stand on the bed to dust.  Rather than step gracefully down like a lady (which normally I do) I decided to plop down on my bottom from standing up, kind of like you did when you were a 8 year old on the trampoline.  It seemed like it'd be fun, jumping down on my soft bed and jumping to the floor, sprucing up cleaning time a bit.  Instead I jumped down and sprained my wrist.   
The  hazards of being a housewife.   I kept rehurting it trying to take care of the baby and various things until I finally got a brace.   Moral of the story:  only I could make house cleaning a dangerous job.  I'm pretty sure I should play it safe and never clean again.

Dream on dreamer.

Potty mouth!

About five different times this week my mom asked me, "when are you going to update your blog again?  It's so funny!"  Which, I'm  glad my mom thinks I'm funny, when I was younger I don't think she thought I was funny as much as a smart ass.  Now that I don't live with her I'm "funny".  Well, all this pressure to update has made me kind of anxious about being funny enough.   I thought, maybe this time I'll just reveal some deep thoughts about being a mom.  Truth being told though, I'm not really deep.  Whenever I try to reveal some deep thoughts (usually in various journals I've started and stopped through the years), I hope I'm coming across as intellegectual, enlightened or thought provoking.  Then I go back later and read something like, "it's amazing how blue the sky can really be sometimes.  I mean, somedays it's just kind of blue, and other days it's strikingly blue, like saphires."  I realize not only was I not intellectual, but it kind of seems like it could have been written by a hippie...high on pot.   To be an intellectual writter I think it's best if you use big words followed by good adjectives.  I find I spend too much time trying to think of fancy words to try to be intellectual so I think I'll stick to what I know.  Which is being a smart ass.  

In other news, I ran my first 5k yesterday.  I feel great about it!  Do I consider myself a runner now?  Not at all, in fact, just this week when I was running with my friend, a couple blocks into it I turned to him and said, "I hate this!"  Seems to me most runners I know, truely love it. 

You can see here, my friend Stephanie who loves running, smiling and waving at the camera, she looks like she's thinking something like "I'm running and I'm super excited about it! Hello photographer!".  I put my hand up to flip the photographer off, then decided that was inappropriate so I have the "I'm going to smile and put my hand up to wave but I'm thinking bad thoughts about you taking pictures while I'm just trying to breathe" (look closely for the slight grimace)

                               

 However, I do feel accomplished, for finishing something that was difficult, completing a goal I had set, and doing it regardless of how much I disliked it.   Everyone keeps asking if I caught the "running bug",  but the truth is I just want to feel healthy, and I don't like bugs.