Because they're making me dizzy with all the wheel spinning they do.
I don't know if it's a product of age, motherhood, or doing too much or if Larry's right and I do have some minor case of ADD..(of course I vehemently say it's from living with him if I've picked that up) but it's only gotten worse the older I get.
And this week the hamsters think I should write a book. They haven't decided what kind of book, even, just a 'hey, you should write a book' recurring thought. The last book I remember writing was in 4th grade, something about "Andrew gets a dog" which of course wasn't even fiction, but rather embellished non fiction. I didn't have a whole lot of creativity as a kid, either, so I think the hamsters are pretty delusional. But because they won't go away, I'm here writing about them.
Other than that the hamsters think I should go to the beach today since they're tired of the heat. Mind you, last week in CT they thought the weather here was pretty fantastic, but now that we're here they have "last hurrah of summer" on the brain and want to get out of the heat. Of course the beach will be cold, but it's hot at the house in that weird inland California gets hot while the beach is cool way.
And if I get to the beach, maybe, just maybe I'll get a few minutes to read.
I guess that's what really started the hamsters on the writing idea- I've started reading again. And not stuff to better my brain- just mindless fiction. And if anyone has a good suggestion for reading, please send it my way. I'm not into scary fiction and can't start even an Agatha Christie book without knowing how it ends before I can sleep at night. And nothing uber-romantic, or too sad. I've read 2 Nicholas Sparks books and decided I need something with a happier ending.. yeah, I see why the hamsters want me to write, because they've been re-writing the end of his books so they're not so depressing. Maybe they'd be good if I wanted to cry, but I don't. I'm not going to turn this into a therapy session right now to discuss the whys or why nots of that.
But the real reason I started reading was to motivate my rear to get on the treadmill.
Because If I don't use it more than 50 miles in 2 years, it's not worth moving AGAIN. And it's on my "have to do list" to get in better shape for 40 than I was at 30, or perhaps 35 would be a better goal. So.. there it is- out there in print for someone to hold me to it. I thought about making a 1/2 marathon a goal, but in reality ANY sort of timed run in public would probably be a reasonable goal- like one of the dozens of 5 or 10Ks they have here in the fitness center of the world.Or the 1K fun run with the kids... (setting realistic goals now)
Part of me was planning on joining the Y and going every day after I dropped the kids off at school. I still might do that- give me something to think about other than the fact that I'm dropping my babies off to grow up. And I guess that's what scares me- not as much what they'll learn from the other kids, not even the propaganda they may or not learn from California mandated topics, but it's really the fact that I'll have to acknowledge that they're growing up. Fast. And it's enough angst to pour into a book and share with others.
So.. again, it's turned into a therapy session here at the blog. The house is calling me to clean it up (again) now that they're mud tracked across the light colored carpet (remind me next time - DARK colors, even if they say it's "stain resistant") and there are a few loose ends from the business I need to nail down. And then I'll find a book and a towel and head to the beach- where the book will sit in the bottom of my bag and get sandy while I try to keep an eye on the kids and keep them from wandering off or drowning... Somehow the life of luxurious sitting around and reading while sipping iced tea has escaped me. Guess that's what my book would be about.
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