I tripped again. With witnesses this time. Reopened knee wound and got another. I am a champion.
Nothing says sophisticated like a 32-year-old woman with sticking plasters on her knees and elbows. It does also rather suggest carpet burn, which might have been a much more pleasant way to get these injuries. Better luck next time, maybe.
Exercise is bad for me.
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, June 21, 2010
Taking it hard and fast
Hugs I have had recently that I have thoroughly enjoyed:
Karen
Nic
Harriet
Ruthie & Ian
A whole bunch of people at the pub the other night.
Hugs I have had recently that I have not enjoyed at all. No, siree.
The pavement.
So, in a moment that in retrospect was clearly drug induced, so insane was the action, I decided to go for what most might call a 'run'. However, is unfair to actual runners to describe it this way when in reality I stop, walk, chat to cats and tie up my shoelaces a great deal. And now I can add falling over to my list of 'running' accomplishments. In my defence, it was dark, the pavement was next to a cemetery so probably the broken up concrete I tripped over was zombies trying to escape and not me being clumsy, but whatever - I tripped and fell spectacularly. Fortunately, my beautiful face was not marred -I used my less-likely-to-be-seen-by-the-public elbow, knee and palm to take the blow. And then I lay, sprawled on the pavement saying just the one word over and over. This word could probably be found in the Oxford dictionary with 'obscenity' next to it.
And then I got back up and like a trooper I kept on going because in the dark the injuries looked a bit pathetic. Yes, I am indeed very brave.
Of course, when I got home, I discovered my leg was covered in blood, as was my shoe, thanks to Mr Knee. Disappointingly, there was no one home to appreciate this sight or offer me pity.
Our house is up for sale and on Saturday, just twenty minutes before the real estate agent arrived with the first lot of eager home buyers, my flatmate Kev put his foot through the floorboards in the hallway. We don't want the house to sell but Kev assures us his manoeuvre was entirely accidental. Apparently skipping like an elephant is part of his daily routine that just happened to coincide with a very weak floorboard.
Karen
Nic
Harriet
Ruthie & Ian
A whole bunch of people at the pub the other night.
Hugs I have had recently that I have not enjoyed at all. No, siree.
The pavement.
So, in a moment that in retrospect was clearly drug induced, so insane was the action, I decided to go for what most might call a 'run'. However, is unfair to actual runners to describe it this way when in reality I stop, walk, chat to cats and tie up my shoelaces a great deal. And now I can add falling over to my list of 'running' accomplishments. In my defence, it was dark, the pavement was next to a cemetery so probably the broken up concrete I tripped over was zombies trying to escape and not me being clumsy, but whatever - I tripped and fell spectacularly. Fortunately, my beautiful face was not marred -I used my less-likely-to-be-seen-by-the-public elbow, knee and palm to take the blow. And then I lay, sprawled on the pavement saying just the one word over and over. This word could probably be found in the Oxford dictionary with 'obscenity' next to it.
And then I got back up and like a trooper I kept on going because in the dark the injuries looked a bit pathetic. Yes, I am indeed very brave.
Of course, when I got home, I discovered my leg was covered in blood, as was my shoe, thanks to Mr Knee. Disappointingly, there was no one home to appreciate this sight or offer me pity.
Our house is up for sale and on Saturday, just twenty minutes before the real estate agent arrived with the first lot of eager home buyers, my flatmate Kev put his foot through the floorboards in the hallway. We don't want the house to sell but Kev assures us his manoeuvre was entirely accidental. Apparently skipping like an elephant is part of his daily routine that just happened to coincide with a very weak floorboard.
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Taking the pith
Today I wasted a good minute pondering how many hours of my life I have spent waging war on pith. For it is an ongoing battle and one I'm not even entirely sure that I shall win.
But I hate pith. Creepy little tendrils of horrid taunting me by clinging to the delicious flesh of mandarins. Inhaling it by accident is like eating cobwebs discarded by particularly vindictive spiders - a boobytrap that I must circumnavigate with all the cunning that Indiana Jones would utilise if he thought that the Orange Orb of Succulence was a religious artefact the Nazis were keen to steal in order to gain both world domination and freedom from scurvy.
It appears that summer is no more in Sydney. Instead we've had three weeks of rain and I have made myself very unpopular by admitting that I like it. Locals tell me this much rain is not normal. Coming from Wellington, I do find it normal and am delighted by the fact that despite the rain, it's still warmish and there's very little wind.
A sad fact must be faced though, and that is that my tan is no more. Yes, I really am that shallow.
But I hate pith. Creepy little tendrils of horrid taunting me by clinging to the delicious flesh of mandarins. Inhaling it by accident is like eating cobwebs discarded by particularly vindictive spiders - a boobytrap that I must circumnavigate with all the cunning that Indiana Jones would utilise if he thought that the Orange Orb of Succulence was a religious artefact the Nazis were keen to steal in order to gain both world domination and freedom from scurvy.
It appears that summer is no more in Sydney. Instead we've had three weeks of rain and I have made myself very unpopular by admitting that I like it. Locals tell me this much rain is not normal. Coming from Wellington, I do find it normal and am delighted by the fact that despite the rain, it's still warmish and there's very little wind.
A sad fact must be faced though, and that is that my tan is no more. Yes, I really am that shallow.
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