We have enough interest that the Peep Show will go on! It will be smaller than previous years, but that is okay. :)
All-O-ver, Ol-i-vore . . . we're learning that Oliver's name has some fun mispronunciations.
Also, ask him what is name is and this is what you'll hear: "My name is Oli . . . Oli . . . Oliv . . . Oli . . . I don't know."
Here I am at SFO. Again. What should have been a 40 minute layover has turned into a 5 hour layover with merely a possibility of getting on the red-eye at 10:30. Flying standby. And if I don't get on the standby flight . . . they tell me my next shot at JFK isn't for 24 hours. Yeah. So let's hope that doesn't happen. And if I don't get on standby, well, there's got to be another way home.
S: Oliver, Is Mom a child of God?
O: Yes!
S: No, Mom is a grown up!
The one night -- ever -- when Micah and I get to bed at 10:00 and could, feasibly, get 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep, Simon wakes up crying inexplicably at midnight and can't go back to sleep, Oliver falls out of bed, and we're all out a couple of hours of sleep. Clearly we need to never try to go to to bed early. It's the only way to get a good night's sleep around here.
Some of my brother’s put us onto Vibram FiveFingers. They are meant to give your feet the feeling of being barefoot without the danger of getting cut. As soon as Micah saw them it was clear he would not rest until he got his feet into a pair. We bought some on sale last night and took them running for a few miles this morning. I’ve been warned that I’ll be feeling it bad tomorrow, but I’m sure the pain will be worth it. They are supposed to strengthen your feet and teach your body to run more efficiently and I’m hopeful that I’ll be able to cut 15 minutes off my marathon time so I can qualify for Boston before I’m old and gray. Hahaha.
And to feed our running obsession even more, we got this book (also recommended by my brothers):
I knew I had to have it when I read part of an interview with the author. He said, and I quote:
“We treat running in the modern world the same way we treat childbirth—it’s going to hurt, and requires special exercises and equipment, and the best you can hope for is to get it over with quickly with minimal damage. Then I meet the Tarahumara, and they’re having a blast. They remember what it’s like to love running, and it lets them blaze through the canyons like dolphins rocketing through waves. For them, running isn’t work. It isn’t a punishment for eating. It’s fine art, like it was for our ancestors.”
That sounds like something I’d like, right? We’re only a few chapters in, and it is kind of blowing my mind. These Tarahumara people are completely unbelievable to me, and yet this is non-fiction. Can’t wait to read more.