Cooler than You: Stupid Things I Say and Do

It's been a while it seems.  February, when I was in the throes of a broken foot and a doubly ruptured plantar fascia.  In all this time, I've thought about writing, longed to, and yet . . . I wrote for other places, I wrote for books, I wrote in my mind. I stopped time, in many ways. 2019 has been brutal to me. It's been an unending barrage of punches to the face and gut. As I type this now, I shiver a little wondering what will happen next. Will the universe serve me another blow? What insult and injury awaits me this week? I hold my breath. In the fires of memory, I spent a large portion of August in Colorado. Per usual, I found myself footing myself up and down mountainsides, and most pointedly, I made it 3/4 of the way down an expert level hike in Black Canyon. I didn't make it all the way as lupus and asthma said hello, more than once, and my sister from another mother and father--Jen--and I agreed that wrecking myself to make it up and down was not an...

As the air chills, well freefall to six degrees above freezing, I find myself drinking tea in my favorite NYC cup with fuzzy socks on and my favorite university pullover.  My hair is up in a messy bun, and since I'm not planning on washing it tonight, the said style should make it bouncy for tomorrow.  Or . . . Or it will be a dry shampoo Monday, which sets an entirely new tune for the week.  You probably think I'm listening to rap and white girl rolling it out.  Not today, my friends.  It's late on a Sunday.  Sunday's are no place for rap.  Mondays, now, are a different story.  Instead, I've got an even whiter mix of mellow and slow songs going that I've had on repeat for two days.  I make no apologies, as sometimes we just need the same twenty songs to move us along.  Sometimes.  This is all sounding pretty white bougie right now.  I probably shouldn't tell you I had a gluten-free blueberry bagel this mo...

Somewhere in here I might have forgotten to say that I'm running a 5K on 22 November. It's for the Arthritis Foundation, and this run is the Richmond, VA leg of the Jingle Bell Run. It's gonna be cold, I know. Probably not a keen mix for a Lupus girl, one with Raynaud's and Fibromyalgia, but it's all good. Arthritis goes with Lupus, you should be able to figure out why I know, so this one means something more than just making me get out the door everyday. I also have the obligatory obnoxious running hat and gloves. You know . . . goofy colors so that when you are chugging along the side of the roadway no one can miss you. See, here's proof I'm full force into the running train game again: https://www.kintera.org/faf/donorReg/donorPledge.asp?ievent=278027&supid=238035162 I'll have my 30 minute time back by then. Trust me. Those that have experience with me and the running know. . . been doing it for years. While I'm not stealer, I am funn...