We spent Labor Day weekend at the beach with Beth, Dan and Miller. The boys went fishing Saturday and struck out. The first time EVER that has happened. My mouth was watering with the anticipation of fresh fish for dinner but sadly, it was not meant to be. Instead we spent 3 hours preparing steak. Yes, 3 hours. The condominium complex only has charcoal grills and let's just say we (ie Matt and Dan) overestimated the amount of charcoal needed to grill some ribeyes. We actually could have grilled them the next morning for breakfast - they used that much charcoal. But no worries - we drank plenty of wine as we waited and waited and waited. By 10:00 when we actually sat down to eat I had even forgotten my disappointment that it wasn't fish I was shoveling in my mouth.
Brantley had the best time at the pool! It was so fun playing with her. And it solidified our need - yes, need - for a place at the beach. What kind of parents would we be if we denied our child this simple joy? We're working on it.
Hurricane Hanna brought us some much needed rain but nothing too severe. I believe the latest news on Ike is that it will miss us as well. We're kind of due for a good ol' hurricane whooping - it is just a matter of time. My guess is it will hit right after the ink dries on the contract for a beach place. Bets anyone?
So, training for these upcoming 1/2 marathons is not going as well I'd like. Here is my pickle: since all my friends moved away, Andrea and I are left to carry the burden of maintaining the schedule by ourselves. And I'm a fanatic about maintaining the schedule. The one time I did not maintain the schedule I wanted to actually jump out of body and not return until it had undergone some major massage and rehabilitative therapy. Since it is just Andrea and I, if one of us can't go, the other usally doesn't make it. I'm too chicken little to run at 5:00 a.m. by myself. My alternative is to go the gym instead and run the treadmill. It's better than nothing but it is really unappealing. I've asked Matt to physically push me out of the bed. That's the thing - once my feet hit the floor I'm ok, not great, but ok. It's the 5 seconds it takes for the covers to come off, the legs to swing out and the knees to straighten in order to bare the weight of my exhausted body that is the hardest. Do you feel sorry for me yet? I think in writing this I've talked myself out of being such a wuss. Time to put the big girl panties on and get to training!
