Can’t You Read the Signs?

It’s been one of those days.

What exactly does that sign mean you ask? No yelling.

Now don’t get me wrong, I try not to yell. But you might say that I’ve been known to raise my voice. Sometimes I yell more than or louder than I’d like to admit. But I promise that I DO TRY not to yell. Some days I’m more successful than others.

Today when I scolded Ava because she purposefully hit Maxine in the head with a hair brush, she ran off upstairs in tears and got to work on some signs while I got to work on lunch. She came back down a short while later and we both apologized for our less than stellar behavior. Then she got to work merrily hanging up her signs up all over the house. The living room, the kitchen, the dining room. I see a couple upstairs now too.

I enjoyed signs while I ate my homemade garlic hummus smeared on toasted sesame Ezekiel bread topped with salsa.

And another with my spinach banana smoothie.

I asked her, “What does ‘Dai Oim’ mean? Does that mean ‘DIE MOM’?!”

Fortunately, no, that’s not what it means. It just says “Please don’t yell at me.”

I also asked if she made any signs for herself, because she yells too. (Funny how they not only pick up on your good habits, but they pick up on ALL your habits.) She replied that no, it was my job to make those signs for her.

Alrighty then.

Kidding. Kidding! I said I was kidding!

This is either going to save us both years of therapy or we’ll be declaring bankruptcy due to outrageous mental hospital bills.

But onto the splash park!

Want to play Where’s Waldo Ava? (Her suit is blue and green!)

Apparently everybody and their mother had the same idea we did today. We didn’t stay long.

Afternoon snack unintentionally turned into an early dinner.

Fruit.

Fruit.

And oh yeah, more fruit.

I think “Turkish Apricots” is latin for “These are kind of brown but don’t be alarmed they still taste the same.”

Some corn on the cob a little later too.

In other news, our monarch caterpillar survived the night!

And much like a breastfed baby, we know he’s getting enough to eat because he’s pooping. A lot.

I’ll leave you tonight with this important message:

Dai Oim.

Decisions, Decisions

On any given day, at any given moment, the answer to my own question “Are you going to run the marathon again this year or what?!” could go like this:

1. Or what.
2. Yes, of course I am.
3. Maybe.
4. I’ll do the half.

I’ve got a million different reasons for wanting to run it. I’ve got the same number of reasons why I think I shouldn’t.

I cycle around though all four answers at varying speeds, coming back to #1 when I think of the time commitment involved in training. Time is a hot commodity these days.

I’m tired of going around and around, so today I put my pen on the paper and let it guide me to the correct box like a Ouija race entry form. It’s no coincidence that the deadline for entering is August 1.

I let the pen decide. It’s over. I’m done with my inner debate. I love being part of the race day excitement and love having something to train for. The half seems like the perfect compromise and a half-assed solution to this annoying turmoil at the same time. I’ve never run a half marathon before so this will be something new to add to my race report.

I like to run far. Just not too far. At least not this summer.

Entry form filled out and in the mailbox, I ate some shriveled apple goodness for my pre-ride fuel.

Notice Ava’s sweet little bowl of overnight oats there?

I enjoyed my 12 mile ride and was home in about 50 minutes. I walked through the door to find Zak eating my breakfast cookie! I should have carved a big “A” into it last night.

No big deal. Instead I got to work on the overnight concoction I’d prepared for him – which by the way, also happened to be an experiment. Yes, I test on animals. Don’t call PETA.

I took a cue from Christina at Mindful Living and threw a small handful of raisins into his bowl last night along with vanilla soy milk, a little agave, ground flax and cinnamon.

No yogurt. The man does not like yogurt.

The result? Pretty dang good, a nice change up. Soaked raisins have fun texture. “Fun” like a rollercoaster ride and no bra? Not quite, but both worth doing at least once.

Topped this morning with 1/2 a sliced banana and raw almond butter. And I didn’t even miss the yogurt.

Now if only the dang mailman would hurry up and get here so I can stop twitching.