I am having one of those transitional periods right now where I’m just on the cusp of Something Big, maybe, except maybe not. I mean, probably I am. But I’m not ready to talk about it and yet, it’s all that’s on my mind. ALL that’s on my mind. Constantly. But we cannot talk about it, because I am superstitious and are you TRYING TO WRECK IT for me? What is WRONG with you?
Look! Over there! Something SHINY!
Actually, all I have to show you is not at all shiny. It smells bad, too. I’m sorry.
So, um, Monkey’s last day of school, they had Field Day. Which included all manner of activities, some of which involved a lot of water. I had completely forgotten about that. In fact, so triumphant was I at the successful completion of the school year, I had allowed the children’s backpacks to linger on the mudroom floor and hadn’t even glanced in their general direction. At all.
For two weeks.
Yeah. Um, so, there was this plastic bag? In Monkey’s pack? It contained a bathing suit, a t-shirt, a penicillin farm, and a dead possum. The possum was invisible, but I SURE COULD SMELL IT.
A smart person would’ve sealed that bag right back up and thrown it away, or possibly given it a proper burial deep in the woods, but I am not a smart person. I am still in the process of utilizing all nine laundry detergents, pre-treaters, and stain removers I own. So far I can tell you that the possum carcass stench has been eliminated, but I may yet end up not being able to save the clothing. The black mildew that comes from forgetting about the wet bathing suit bag is stubborn stuff, it turns out.
As a pre-emptive strike, after that, I just threw Chickadee’s backpack away whole. No sense traumatizing myself twice. And she didn’t have a wet bathing suit in there… I mean, I don’t think she did… but why risk it? There was a smell coming from her bag that I just had no interest in investigating. I can only handle one environmental emergency per day.
So there was that.
Also I sat down with my walk partner to come up with some flyers for this fundraiser we’re doing as our last hurrah to get some money raised. (Lord. A fundraiser, to… raise money. If you people were paying money for this, you’d be throwing tomatoes right about now.) Anyway, we have to convince people to come eat at this restaurant on our designated night and bring our coupon thingies and then we get a cut of the profits. Which is great. And we could certainly make a nice flyer all about the Susan G. Komen foundation and all of that.
But this is us. Or, more accurately, ME. So the flyer starts out with a large headline that reads:
We’re walking. You should eat some pizza.
Truly, my wordsmith capabilities are staggering. Aren’t you hungrier, just reading that? I know you are. Want a flyer and a coupon? Come on down for the fireworks tomorrow night. We’ll be randomly assaulting spectators and screeching DO IT FOR THE BOOOOOOBIES while we hand them out.
And speaking of the boobies (there’s that talent, again), I’m pleased to report that mine are doing just fine. My FEET, on the other hand, haven’t been the same since the really wet training walk. Let’s just say that I am a summer pedicure kind of girl; not that I let someone ELSE do my feet, but I’m all about the sparkly toenails and the smooth skin and all. But with the training, now, I’ve moved directly into the realm of “Oh, it’s a large hunk of skin clinging tenuously to my toe. Huh. Maybe I should cut that off.” My feet are PEELING APART and the skin splits in odds location and if a small fanged alien burst from between the big toe and the one next to it, I wouldn’t be all that surprised. Every now and then I put some shea butter foot cream on the bad spots, but it’s a charade at this point.
“So Mir, what was the most difficult part? Raising over $5,000? The training leading up to the 60 miles? Or the 60 miles itself?”
“I think it was when that toe just popped off my foot around mile 17. And then during dinner the first day, my foot just split open down to the bone. I’m glad I had my duct tape.”
See, now the bit about the mildewy t-shirt doesn’t sound so bad, does it?