Happy

Well, it's not like I'm going to burst into song or start posting cupcake recipes, but  at least I'm not bitching. 

In order to prevent a relapse to my long lost friend, the Marlboro Man, I went out for a run today. It was not a long run or a fast run, but  a run nonetheless. It's probably premature to register for the marathon.  I am not in any  more or any less pain, and it has very clearly improved my disposition, as evidenced by an unusual lack of profanity. Possibly the people around me are suffering less. 

It was really more like a brisk walk, and not quite 4 miles,  but having the lakefront all to myself is a luxury that can be enjoyed only on a shitty snowing sleety day. No bikes, no bladers, no babies, no bimbos--well almost no bimbos. I'm still trying to tone the hair down, but it still screams TRAMP-O-LINA. If it stays this blonde, I will be required by social convention to get breast augmentation. Platinum blonde and flat-as-a prairie are incongruous. Easier to fix the hair.

N. maintains that he too wants to be a runner. He was easily the fastest 3 year old on the track over the summer,  knocking out laps not quite fast enough to push is father into an arrhythmia, but close.  Maybe next year.