i keep telling myself that things will stop changing. but they don't.

my friend, jodi, says when you have no control you have to let go.

and since i pretty much have no control over anything, i'm learning to let go.

but letting go of my dearest friend will be hard. watching her pack and move will be the most difficult goodbye yet.

my first reaction was joy. joy bc i love her.
my second reaction was selfishness. selfishness bc i love her.

i will be in denial for a few more months. expect a breakdown late summer when i realize she's gone.

long blond hair. long fake nails. a tee hee hee kind of giggle. an unnecessary amount of makeup. i really do notice these things. it's sad, i know.

and i guess brody does too since he turned to me to say she was a bee-yoooou-tiful princess.

*clinch teeth*
lil buddy, i have so much to teach you still.

got a little closer to the 3 miles tonight. more like under 2 but i believe in dirty math so let's round up. i also got new shoes and new running shorts. bc what is the point in running if you don't have cute clothes? duh.

my grandpa was a strong man. a wise man. he rarely said much to us. he loved us no doubt. but he was hard on us. he expected a lot. and when he was disappointed, we knew it. it showed in his eyes. as a teenager, he turned to me unexpectedly and said.... 'never depend on anyone, kaylen. you are a strong girl. you are a smart girl. the only person you can depend on is you.'

he didn't just tell me i was pretty. he told me i was strong. and smart. and i listened. thank god, i listened.

i signed up for my first 5k last august. trained and everything. the race ended up being the same weekend that i said goodbye to adam as he headed back to florida. didn't make it. didn't even cross my mind.

my 2nd 5k - er, i guess this is still my 1st - is quickly approaching. this time in iowa. driving a few hours to run a few miles.

i started training a few weeks ago but in my mind the race was always a few weeks away. plenty of time to procrastinate. insert twisted ankle from tripping over a sidewalk crack. 1 week no training. insert self-diagnosed broken toe from tripping over a different sidewalk crack. 1 week no training.

and now here i am, 2 weeks out. now i have been running from time to time, but i had no idea how far i was running. tonight though, i bought a pedometer.

and i haven't been running 3 miles.

not even close.

so i might not finish that race running...but i will make it to the bar afterwards. that's my new goal. bc i don't need to train for that.

it took me a decade to get a real calculator at hallmark. the awesome kind. after a tiny bit of whimpering, our admin let me pick one out of a catalog all by myself.

so when i left, i stole it. i did. i loved it. and after 10 years, i had earned it.

but now i feel guilty. so i'm headed back. in 2 weeks. to return that calculator.

my friend introduced me to a new little toy shop down the street. in the cutest building ever. with the cutest owner ever. and since neither of us had anything better to do we drilled her with questions. why do you own a toy shop? are you married? what does your husband do? where do you get all these toys? are you happy? can i trade lives with you? kidding. i didn't ask that last question.

short version of her story is that she used to run a non-profit agency, has 3 kids, is married to a producer that shoots documentaries and always wanted to own a lil toy shop. i love her and hate her equally.

on the walk back i moaned and groaned that this girl had stolen my life. i was supposed to have a little shop. and marry the sweet, cool guy. she can keep the extra 2 kids though, i only wanted 1.

this led to trying to explain my type. calm. introverted. cool. witty. smart. quiet.

with the exception of adorable boy, i have always assumed that only meatheads are attracted to me. since marc is an analyst he determined that this isn't really the case. the problem is that most men are indeed meatheads and my type is just a tiny portion of the population. therefore, statistically speaking i am less likely to meet them...and since they aren't extroverts, if by chance i do meet them they will never ask me out.

so the results were that i will always be alone. and i pretty much already knew that since toy shop girl stole my husband and my toy shop.

you should never tell a stupid meathead that you don't want your son to grow up to be a stupid meathead. they take offense to that. and then you have to squirm your way out of it.

in fact sometimes i think i should just stop talking.

i left work today in the middle of a storm. with no umbrella. and a 1 1/2 block walk to my car. with a twisted ankle. so off i hobble to my car. a soaking disaster by the time i get there.

driving down the highway to get brody and i see flashing lights. seriously? now? i am late. i am soaking wet. now is not a good time to pull me over.

mentally preparing myself for a ticket the cop begins by telling me he is giving me a warning.

did you know you were speeding?
yes, i was speeding bc i am in a hurry. of course i know i was speeding. did you really have to pull me over just to tell me i was speeding?
do you want me to give you a ticket?
mmmmm, not really.
then you should probably stop talking.
ya, you're right. i should stop talking. i will stop talking.

my neighbor asked me yesterday if i had seen a young girl going into his house this weekend.

yes, i did actually. she was wearing jean shorts and black high heels.

he was impressed with my memory. uh, it's actually because i am really judgmental.

it was his daughter. so that was uncomfortable.

too windy & wet to go to the park tonight so we played in the front yard instead. brody wanted to practice his swing so he ran off to get a bat and...uh, football.

you sure you don't want me to get your wiffle balls, bro?
no, i'm a football player.
with a bat?
yes, i am a really strong football player. throw me the ball so i can hit it.

realizing this was a dead end conversation, i started pitching the football to the football player holding a bat.

and then the new neighbors show up. of course they did. as if it is their duty to protect brody from a clueless mom.

and then i hear....

he's a lefty!

lord help me.

it's t-ball season at the park. and we are there every night. playing in the sandbox, watching lacrosse players, running, riding bikes...and now t-ball.

having a boy that is a lefty means every guy in the park will stop to tell me he's gonna be a pitcher. and they are usually foaming at the mouth as they tell me. i think they drink testosterone before practice. as if they don't have enough already.