• sisters on a mission.

  • Three sisters. One in Virginia. One in London. One in New York. None of whom wear shorts. Ever.

  • the mission?

    Taking delight.
    Learning Italian.
    Getting to Italy.
    Wearing shorts.
    In Italy.
    June 2011.

  • Enter your email address to subscribe to this blog and receive notifications of new posts by email.

    Join 5 other followers

  • Advertisements

two down, one to go

gotta love coded socks

I’m happy to announce that I have officially joined Cathlin in completing the C25K training program.  Woot!

I did my last run yesterday morning on one of the hottest days (100+) of this summer so far.   Thankfully it was only 80 degrees and 65% humidity when Daisy and I headed out at 6:00 am.

If I hadn’t been so committed to finishing yesterday I might have psyched myself out when I opened the door and felt that heat.  Did the powers that be not get the memo that I was doing my final run?

Well never mind.  I was going and that was that.  I already had on my favorite and fancy-bum-worthy (and kinda pricey) asics hera socks in honor of the occasion.  The hot pink and orange ones to entice my feet to move out at a faster pace (wishful thinking).  I love the fit of these socks with their L and R on the toes.  I have four pairs in different fun color combos.  Seriously, the other socks in my drawer are jealous because they never get to go out anymore.

Anyhoo.  With happy feet we jogged down unpaved alleys for the first 10 minutes to ease into things and then crossed over onto the sidewalks of the Fan.  Very cool neighborhood.  Great architecture.  None of which I noticed as I dodged uprooted sidewalks and kept an eye out for squirrels and other distractions (for Daisy not me) while also trying to focus on my form and my breathing.

And not looking at my watch.  There’s nothing worse than thinking you’ve run at least 15 minutes and then peeking at the time and realizing it has only been 10.  Also, I know I said I was going to try to inject some faster sections into my runs but with the heat and humidity I just couldn’t do it.   Or at least chose not to do it.  Still, I was plenty sweaty and Daisy’s tongue was hanging out by the time we finished.  She got some extra loving for her efforts.

I forgot to do my victory dance and couldn’t find my cap and gown.  But I did have a big fat Butterfinger Blondie at lunch in celebration.  Yum.


versatility – part II

Part II of the Versatile Blogger Award:


I think I may have a mild form of obsessive compulsive disorder.  Maybe it’s just a lot of weird habits.  Or maybe I just don’t like clutter, and I like to tidy-up, and to straighten things, and to have a clean bathroom.  And is it so strange that I can’t sleep with my closet door open, or my bedroom door shut?  I also go through quite a few anti-bacterial hand wipes.  However, I do spend a lot of time on public transportation.  And really if you open any of my cabinets and drawers, the contents would come falling out.  It’s not like I alphabetize my CDs or even have my socks paired up.


I absolutely do not like to wander around naked.  Or sleep naked.

Childhood Dreams

Growing up, I do not remember really having any burning desire to pursue any particular vocation.  Not a teacher or a doctor or a hairdresser.  I do remember loving to dance.  My sisters and I would have these funny little dance contests.  One of us used to pretend to be the bad dancer and the other the good dancer.  This was all done to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack, of course.  I think I would have been a good performer.  I still have a secret desire to do so.  On the other hand, I do like to tell people what to do (should I have said lead people or motivate people towards a common goal?).  What can I do with that “skill”?  I have tried many, many things and taken many classes, but alas I am only a jack-of-all-trades, master of none.


Sometimes I use my husband’s razor to shave my legs and under my arms and I don’t tell him.  I carefully dry the razor off and put it back in the medicine cabinet where I found it.  So he can then shave his face.  Ick.


I can fly a single-engine plane.  I know I should say that one of the most memorable moments of my life was when I had my children (I was so drugged up that I actually don’t remember it anyway), but it was my first solo flight. Wow! I will never forget that day.  Flying for me was one of those things that I loved to do even though sometimes it absolutely terrified me.


I know my real age is almost 44.  I have managed people, had jobs with authority, am mother to two children, appear to be a grown-up, experienced, worldly woman.  I do know that I am truly a very capable and independent person.  But, honestly, I feel like a bit of a sham or a fraud most of the time.  Inside I’m thinking that can’t be me.  I am only 20, right?  I know nothing yet.  I don’t take myself too seriously.  Labels such as wife and mother don’t seem to belong to me.  I even feel strange calling myself a woman when I am more comfortable with the term girl.  Maybe this is a good thing.


I sleep in socks….all year round.