Let's see what did I do?
Well, I obsessed over my not-yet-healed eye (one pupil: fixed and constricted. Still. Week four).
One eyelid: still not quite at full-mast. Weird.
Add to this: only one side of my face shows exertion after running, ie, redness, sweating. The right side of my face is blessedly (frighteningly, eerily) flesh-coloured, dry.
I looked this up at something called 'webmd.com' and I can tell you--I see how people become obsessed with 'self-diagnosing'. I am awaiting my MRI last week of June so I will refrain until then.
I drank chardonnay with dinner.
I drank herbal tea before bed.
I made the same dinner (farfalle with tomato sauce) three nights in a row.
I consulted my vitamin bible (I am over-obsessing. I know. I know. I can't seem to stop).
I read an online style blog
about City Hall weddings. Holds a special place in my heart. Loved seeing what all the brides wore, especially a unique blue-rose-patterned jacket and a plaid jacket/shrug over a cute short dress. (baaad shoes though. my opinion).
I did my nails: sugar daddy on Monday for an event I was attending, mendochino on my toes.
Then, last night, after a burst of energy, took off my existing mani-pedi, cleaned my bathroom, used an exfoliator on my hands and feet, and re-did my nails.
blushing bride on fingers, classic french on toes (blushing bride topcoat). but I did like this blog on tricked-out frenches.
my sis did one like this for my wedding, with pink on the tips instead of the classic white.
Somewhere (my massage therapist's office) I was reading Toronto Life Fashion a couple of weeks ago and they had an article about nail polish and how horrified they are by French manicures/pedicures. I deliberately did my toes like that to offend them. I hate that magazine.
I really kind-of hate all fashion magazines, and most of what the industry stands for.
I've had this discussion with more than one friend: if we could wear a 'clothing uniform' we would, and we hate shopping. My obsessions lie more with my hair (that's where my $$ goes, products, good cuts, the like) and my nails (however, I fastidiously do my own manicures and pedicures. I'm not kidding. I do a better job. Truly. Ditto for home hair colour).
I would wear the same pair of shoes for years and years if I could (and I do. The $50.00 I spent on summer shoes at the beginning of spring was not on a new pair. it was to repair 2 beloved pairs. One of which was a high-heeled stiletto-sandal that I am not ashamed to admit I bought at Le Chateau, for my thirtieth birthday party, August, 2003. You do the math). As for boots..I obsess only over heel size, shape, and toe-look. I will only ever wear black or dark grey (never never that camel/tan never never). I have at least six different pairs of black dress pants. I told you. Uniform.
I will admit to buying Vogue this month after swearing off it. I really wanted to read about the athletes, you know, the Americans win everything in the Olympics. And I see why: high school sports are SERIOUS stuff in the States. I like that. It means something. It was a great issue, starving models and girls-about-town notwithstanding.
I continued to read Cheryl Strayed's "Wild" (Strayed is the last name she chose for herself after her divorce. Just..looked it up in the dictionary and was drawn to the definition. I love that).
This is a hard book to describe. I would need to print little excerpts as teasers as to why I love this book. Yes, there is alot of technical-hiking-stuff that I know nothing about. Yet I can picture and appreciate the wilderness surrounding her. The part about her mother's death from cancer was hard for me to read. As is typical of the last eighteen months, many of the books I've been unconsciously drawn to have heralded this theme, either directly, or indirectly. I will endeavour to post some favourite snippets thus far of this amazing book in my next post.
Mused, quietly and messily at times, over the one-year-mark for my Dad. Wasn't sure how to 'mark' it.
In the end, nothing really did. Just my feelings of his presence on Monday at the event I went to, the music, the prayers, the anthem. Random sightings included large Canadian flags blowing lazily in the wind (I always think of my Dad when I see the Canadian and American flag, flying proudly). Also, when I see robins (the birds). Crows remind me of another friend, but robins are all my Dad.
Blue Jay hats. The vintage white ones with the blue logo. He always wore a Jays hat in the summer.
When I see one, anywhere, no matter who is wearing it, I half-smile sadly to myself.
Father's Day is on Sunday and so far I've avoided all commercials, ads, and reminders. I still have the card I bought last year. It's loose, in my scrapbook, along with a page of pictures of my Dad I was working on and haven't finished yet. I might drag it out of its cupboard and spend some time on it.
Saw my therapist for the first time in what felt like months (confirmed it was months. I hadn't seen her since March). Talked about the Headache (capital H). Family stuff (I call it 'the love triangle'. Me, my mom, my sister. It can get complicated. No male mediator). Cried about the Headache.
Did a 'health history' marvelling, really, at how healthy I should be (am) except for that teensy bad habit of swilling chardonnay and saving all my exercise time for the weekends. I have a really hard time fitting in even one run during the days of Monday to Friday. I'm simply too exhausted from work. The job. The commute. The talking. The emailing. The reports. The numbers. I've been too spent to even go up on my rooftop and simply 'be'. The thought of running into anyone repels me from this idea.
And here it is. Friday afternoon. The dangling carrot at the end of the workweek.
It's a sunny day out. I have plans for tonight. I have lots of running to do this weekend.
I'll talk to you later.