Friday Flotsam

Freedle-dee-do. Woo woo woo! (<–ew)

I absolutely love to run. Big runner, this gal. I don’t run crazy long impressive stretches, but I normally manage to get in a 2.5 mile run 4-5 times a week. Which is perfect for me. Of course I love the exercise benefits of running, the strength building, the muscle definition, the alone time, the stress release, that whole “runner’s high,” yadda yadda YADDA. But you know what I love most about running? The absolute most? Hand signals.

That’s right. Hand signals. I am beyond obsessed with hand signaling when I run. Can’t hand signal enough. Am I going right? Out goes my right arm. Am I going left? No worries, my left arm will let you in on this decision. Am I going straight? Have no fear, I shall make it known with a crystal clear arm stretch out front. Even if there’s not a single soul on the road when I run, I still hand signal. You know, just in case a bird or a squirrel needs to know. We can’t have nature wrecks out there, you guys. It’s too dangerous.

You know what hand signaling reminds me of? It reminds me of driver’s ed in 10th grade. You know the dude sticking his arm way out of his 1976 brown and tan station wagon. Oh, you know the dude I’m talking about. I love that dude! That dude knows how to party. And how to hand signal.

Keep America safe. Hand signal.

I can’t thank you enough for your incredible encouragement for Will last week! We’ve been working with him really hard over the last few days, and I’m so proud to report that he can now say antidisestablishmentarianism now, no problem!

Actually, “ball” and “mama” are currently in heavy rotation, which honestly, a week ago would have been a complete joke. So I feel like we’re inching our way to success! Do you think it’s too soon to give Harvard a ring?

We’ve been watching a lot of Seinfeld on the Hulu lately. You do know the entire season’s been on it since late June, right? Hello, all my dreams have come true. And would you believe Aaron hasn’t seen a LICK of it? I nearly drew up the divorce papers right then. This is the thing, Aaron loathes sitcoms. Caaaaaan’t staaaaaand ’em. Friends makes him barfy. New Girl makes him squeamish. How I Met Your Mother? Won’t stand for it. You guys, even The Cosby Show gives him hives. WHO IS THIS MARTIAN?

The irony is, he’s got the personality of someone on a sitcom. He talks like it. Writes like it. Acts like it. He’s a bonafide hoot and a half!

Well. well. well. Guess what mama discovered. HE LIKES SEINFELD. He never really knew it was a show about nothing! Seriously, I feel like we have discovered the secret to a long-lasting partnership. We’re actually watching a TV show, together, that doesn’t involve dead bodies or detectives, and we laugh. And laugh. And laugh. And every single episode I’m like, “SEE? ISN’T THIS SHOW THE GREATEST? I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU NEVER WATCHED IT!” I scream it all, just like that. I might need to get Aaron some new earplugs, now that I’m thinking about it.

P.S. STELLLLLAAAAAAAA.

I’d like to apologize for using the word mama in third person up there.

Weekend plans? My super fun sis-in-law is on her way to town later today. You don’t even rightly care because DAT BOOTY.

Question: how on earth are you surviving this heat and humidity with little kids? Mine are going loco. *I* am going loco. Give me ideas on how to keep them entertained because my head’s about to explode. We do the sprinkler in the back yard. We go to the Splash Park. We’re headed to the library next week. What else, what else?? Waaaaaaah!

dat. booty.