“As if broken bones hurt more than the names we got called, and we got called them all…”

Thank you, Shane Koyczan.

The day switched into tomorrow without a moment set aside to type. A pet peeve of mine is complaining about not writing, yet it seems to be a crutch of late. My whole schedule needs to be reconsidered. I come home too late and too grumpy from the office that all I have room for is some leftover pizza and Dance Moms. Runs have been skipped for at least two weeks. Knitting wasn’t touched for days on end. Rut would be an understatement, but I’m in it.

Planning something with steeks in the near future. Wish me luck.

Here’s what I’m studying for steeks.

It’s been one of those days (and weekends) that you wished would never end. Plenty still to do, but plenty got done. Today’s car trip up to Pt. Reyes reminded me of how breath-taking Northern California can be. Cooking dinner tonight and the week’s-worth of lunches showed me just how tasty it is too.

I chose not to scamper today. I was supposed to do 18 miles. After skipping last week’s 16, I really could have used the three-hours on my feet. It’s all investment in the mileage bank to pay off at the end of April. True to form, I’ve never shown up to a race overtrained.

Trying to be at peace with this choice. I enjoyed the yummy breakfast I had with Sonya. I am happy I could knit a bit and watch some TV. I find it freeing that we got grocery shopping and laundry done, so tomorrow’s day off can be super relaxing.

Will I curse this skipped run on marathon day? Nope. I’ll show up at the start with the training I have completed. Plus, the experience of a chill weekend. You can’t cram for a marathon. It is what it is.

But next week…

I know it’s an end-of-the-night, last-minute, lazy post thing to do, but I haven’t set aside the time to type up deep thoughts.

That said, today we got the house in (a bit more) order: piles cleared, surfaces dusted, plants watered and topped off with soil, rug vacuumed dogs bathed, sheets washed and bed freshly made, last fall’s Iceland images off the camera, and my first scamper in a week. Progress.

Decibelle and I are looking forward to the three-day weekend.

…of typing something. Most often, nothing.

In lieu of my own writing, here’s Clara Parkes’ Valentine’s Day List of 14 Knitterly Things to Love from this week’s Knitter’s Review.

It’s enough to my my heart go pitter-pat. I need to get my swatch on soon. (And I’m not talking about the wristwatch.)

Last night I stayed up past midnight, ironing dress shirts, both mine and his. It feels productive, useful and has a beginning and an end.

This morning I listened to this live version of a The xx’s song three or four times in a row (the first one). I may have posted it last year when it came out. I want to take a bath in the trembling desire it contains.

(from NPR’s Tiny Desk Concerts)

Wish I had a third point to make. (Pardon the non sequitur nature of this.) This will have to suffice: I’ve entertained the idea of road-tripping it up to Madrona in Tacoma this weekend. Probably won’t, but it’s might have been a kooky adventure.