Just Writing (Warning: No segues in this one. At all.)

Writing, for the sake of transferring words from my grey matter to an electronic device.

I’d rather use a pen, but that would ruin my monitor.

Melancholy.

I like to say that word, drawing out the syllables.

Mmmmeeeelllllaaaaannnnnnchoooooolllly.

Say it enough times, rolling it over your tongue, and it just might produce its opposite: merriment. For me, anyway. Then again, we all know what a nerd I am.

I’m feeling melancholy, but don’t worry. It’s merely a hormone-induced state, enhanced by various and sundry circumstances all about me. It kind of borders on crazy, but that’s normal for me.

I think I’m going to talk to my chiropractor about doing something to ease this monthly melancholy-itis a bit. Just a smidge, so I don’t confuse my husband so much.

Poor guy.

I have no idea what he was thinking when he married me, but that’s quite alright. He likes me, and he’s decided to keep me. I’m very comfortable in that.

I ran yesterday, for the very first time in almost 12 years. With my sister and Sabrina. Started the Couch to 5K training program, and ran 1.8 miles.

My. Legs. Hurt.

And we’re going again tomorrow morning. At the butt-crack of dawn. Sabrina has this awesome app on her phone, too, that dings to tell us when to switch from running to walking and back again. I like it. I like my snazzy new shoes, too. My feet feel divinely good. It’s only my legs that are in pain.

I remember my ballet days, and how it actually felt kind of good to push through the soreness. I’m really motivated to do this, despite my (Dare I say it again? Oh yes I do!) melancholy. I want to run a 5K this summer. I want the endorphine boost, the health benefits, and the freedom of running. I remember running being the ONLY sport I remotely enjoyed. And was semi-okay at.

I bought a lot of groceries today.

A freaking mountain of them.

These kids in my house must be growing or something. It’s very weird, just how much they can eat, and still come begging, moments later, as though I’d only given them bread and water. I wish they wouldn’t grow quite so fast. It’s highly surprising, and not always pleasant. The way they just wake up one morning, and have no more baby chub, and are using words like “quite” and “apparently” and “melancholy” correctly.

Scout’s honor, Durin has used that last one in proper context. I about fainted.

We’re doing more meatless meals, because I’m hoping it’s cheaper. It has to be. I refuse to let it be otherwise.

Trying a few new recipes here and there.

I’ve finally given up trying to cut our grocery bill (see above paragraph on growing children), and am just trying to keep it within its current bounds as long as I can. I will have to break down and actually get off my duff to DO SOMETHING DIFFERENT very soon in order to keep this in the realm of possibility.

Canning, baking bread, bulk cooking, and whatnot ALL have to have a place here, somewhere.

I lack initiative.

Scratch that.

I am just not good at perseverance. I’m a dandy at starting, but only when I believe I can finish. If I don’t believe that, I would just rather not start. I read a term for it somewhere. I’m a “discouraged perfectionist.”

A quirky, oxymoronic-sounding term, don’t you think? (It’s my blog, I can make up words if I like.)

But, it’s me.

Yet another trait I’m working to either change completely, or minimize.

There is quite a long list of those, and it won’t stop growing. It’s rather trying. Then again, all of life is rather trying, and I’ll be glad if I can be just a little better at it tomorrow, than I was today.

I think an epsom salt bath, a little chocolate, and snuggling down in bed a bit early will be a good first step toward tomorrow’s efforts.

Grace & Peace,
Tiffany

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2 thoughts on “Just Writing (Warning: No segues in this one. At all.)

  1. Go TIff! I’m right there with you on the whole couch to 5K thing. We can do this! And I think a epsom salt bath and some chocolate sound divine!

    (By the way, can I have the recipe for that chickpea salad? I know Andy would really enjoy it).

  2. I’m a discouraged perfectionist too. Except, I blame the people who told me growing up that “anything worth doing is worth doing right”. “Right” to me translates into “perfectly” so if I can’t do it perfectly, I’d rather not do it at all.

    We’re going meatless too. It’s too hot in this stupid house to use the oven a lot, and while I can start a fire by rubbing two sticks together, I can’t light a charcoal grill to save my life.

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