Today I beat Mike home for work so I pulled the trash can around and got the mail, two things I normally don't do. Dr soc is pretty much always home before me and takes care of those things so I never really even think to even do them.
Anyway, when dr soc got home this afternoon he thanked me for pulling the trash around. I said "you're welcome," and since it was such a rare occurance I then happily said:
me: Oh! I got the mail too!
dr: soc: Wow! What did we get?
me: A pizza coupon and um...
dr soc: That's ok. Where is it?
me: It's... It's... uhhh.. This is why I don't get the mail.
Random thoughts and life doings of a spaz who is being forced to be a grownup against her will.
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Tuesday, February 10, 2015
Deliver us
So after my sister got me into running, after watching a few of our races my mom got into it as well. And she's really annoying about it. Don't get me wrong, I am so glad she takes care of herself (because the longer she takes care of herself the less I'll have to take care of her) and as a sorta runner I get the rush and love for it. But she's still really really annoying in bragging about it and not realizing how much of a production running (race day and as regular exercise) really is.
By this point I've pretty much accepted it and I just let her go on and on, smile and nod at appropriate intervals and do what I can behind the scenes to make things go as smoothly as possible. But sometimes, I can find a way to quiet her down for a while.
In 2012 she and I both ran the Savannah half marathon and she wanted to dissect every. single. part. of the race with me. But every race, runner and experience is different and she just couldn't understand why I couldn't recall some thing or provide any insight to her experience. She was going on and on about the sights on the course so surely I must have seen them and experienced them the same way she did too.
mom: Oh that's that really pretty historical church! Do you remember that?
me: No not really.
mom: You must have! It was between miles 8 and 9 and there were all these pretty branches leading up to it. You must have seen it on your run.
me: I'm sure it was there, but I don't really remember seeing it mom.
mom: But it was there between...
me: Hey, mom, do you remember that one church that looked like a boarded up gas station around mile one? Real creepy looking and it's name was the deliverance church of something or other.
mom: Oh yeah! That was really creepy looking.
me: Yup. Well that's the church that I remember.
She was quiet for a little while after that.
By this point I've pretty much accepted it and I just let her go on and on, smile and nod at appropriate intervals and do what I can behind the scenes to make things go as smoothly as possible. But sometimes, I can find a way to quiet her down for a while.
In 2012 she and I both ran the Savannah half marathon and she wanted to dissect every. single. part. of the race with me. But every race, runner and experience is different and she just couldn't understand why I couldn't recall some thing or provide any insight to her experience. She was going on and on about the sights on the course so surely I must have seen them and experienced them the same way she did too.
mom: Oh that's that really pretty historical church! Do you remember that?
me: No not really.
mom: You must have! It was between miles 8 and 9 and there were all these pretty branches leading up to it. You must have seen it on your run.
me: I'm sure it was there, but I don't really remember seeing it mom.
mom: But it was there between...
me: Hey, mom, do you remember that one church that looked like a boarded up gas station around mile one? Real creepy looking and it's name was the deliverance church of something or other.
mom: Oh yeah! That was really creepy looking.
me: Yup. Well that's the church that I remember.
She was quiet for a little while after that.
Labels:
conversation,
family,
I'm going to hell,
memory lane,
running
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