Quiet Sunday afternoon

I took an “unscheduled” rest day from running (“unscheduled” because I haven’t started my formal training plan for Devil’s Lake yet); I’ve been very slowly amping up the mileage for the past several weeks, for no particular reason except that I felt like it, and after kissing fifty miles per week for the past three, it’s time to step back. Plus, I sort of felt very slightly hinky (is so a word) in my ankle the past couple of days. I make the best decisions when I pretend that somebody else is presenting my situation to me, asking what I should do, since I’m much better at giving advice to other people than to myself. Anybody else, I’d tell them to take a rest, so that’s what I’m doing. Might do some gentle yoga later tonight. I did a brief “energizing” flow this morning, and, well, it’s a little less than relaxing when two kids are attempting the flows next to you, with limited and comedic results. (Doing some standing pose that the guy on TV didn’t name but which I call “Stretching My Quads Like I Do After Almost Every Run, Go Me,” and Gabe’s hopping back and forth with his ankle in his hand like he’s MC Hammer, while Sam flails and falls and howls with laughter next to me = totally zen, am I right? ) On the other hand, I did head to church in a much better mood than I often am, even running ten minutes behind schedule as we usually are, so perhaps it wasn’t a total wash.

I haven’t the foggiest idea what I’m making for dinner tonight, and we don’t even have much in the way of raw ingredients to begin making it, but the boys are playing happily and peacefully upstairs and I don’t want to ruin it. On the other hand, Eric’s at the gym, and sometimes he comes home from there with some pretty wonky blood sugars (oh, come on; “hinky” isn’t a word, but “wonky” is?), and it might be nice to be able to present food to him. What would be really nice would be to have an idea for a dinner that both boys would enjoy. Sam has been begging for white bean soup for a while, and I’d like some, too, but Gabe would probably eat the bowl and spoon before so much as tasting the soup. (He’s still on a jag of mostly cheese, bananas, and ham, with occasional requests for chicken nuggets and pizza. Only the fact that I know Sam did this, too, keeps me sane.)

Oh, here they are. Playtime has ended; nightly demands for food (“Can we make cookies? Right now?”) have commenced. I guess it’s grocery store time. (And not (just) for cookie-related items.)