an official announcement + my dead plant is not a metaphor

Gosh, it’s been a week (read: six months).

But, I have four very important things coming up and one important announcement that I couldn’t be happier about, which makes it all just a smidgen better. Such as:

1. Mama and Big Sister are coming up for a staycation, starting tomorrow. We’re wining, dining, zoo-ing, shopping, pedicure-ing and any other fun yet relaxing ‘ings’ we can come up with. Much needed.

2. Next weekend, one of my dearest friends (and college roommate) is get married! Which also means it’ll be the good kind of high school reunion (where, you know, I’ll only have to see the people from high school I liked).

3. The weekend after that is Labor Day. If you aren’t from My Hometown or Surrounding Areas, you aren’t privy to the greatness of Labor Day Weekend. Let me just say: From the rodeo (Bull & Barrels, semantics), beer tent (adding non-beer options this year, thank God) and town-wide yard sale day to pancakes on chuck wagons, a street fair and parade, there’s really no better Labor Day activity. Whatever you think you’re doing that’s better this Labor Day, you’re wrong. Change your plans.

4. The weekend after that is another wedding of dear friends up in good ol’ Elkhart. I don’t technically know where that is, but I’ll know soon.

Segue to my announcement.

So I skipped ahead on the four-week ‘become a runner’ training program because:

1. I’m impatient, and

2. I felt like I didn’t need to stop and walk anymore.

Which brings me to…

The official announcement part of the announcement.

I’m pretty sure I’m officially a runner.

And I also officially dislike running on the treadmill. Which makes me think I’m even closer to being an official runner. Confirmation, anyone?

Anyway, my current “training” program is what I like to call “run until I’m tired,” which so far (says my ultra unscientific free pedometer app that often stops working and starts calculating again whenever it feels like it – I know this to be true because I’ve held it and watched it. I really don’t think I ran negative steps. Which reminds me: Anyone have a suggestion for an actually good one? Mrs. Packard? Twitter Friend Ashley?), generally means around the three to three-point-five-mile mark.

Baby steps, right?

Anyway, I’m also working on choosing my first 5k (thanks much to, of course, lovely ladies Mrs. Packard and Twitter Friend Ashley for the helpful suggestions). If you’re wondering (you aren’t), I’m leaning toward this Spirit Run coming up at the end of September.

Who’s with me? Come on, you know you want to.

But onto my dead plant.

I have this plant.

It died.

Well, technically, it’s still dying. Which might be even worse. That slow, sad wilting stage that only those with bright, kelly-green thumbs can bring back.

Clearly, I am not one of those people.

My dead-slash-dying plant.

Mama gave her to Boyfriend and me around Easter, and thankfully, she was one that only required watering every now and then.

I subsequently forgot about the ‘then.’ Needless to say, I’m quite surprised she’s lasted this long.

Actually, no, that’s a lie. I’m more surprised at the fact that I forgot I had another living thing in my house that required (even the tiniest bit of) care. I mean, I’m still alive. Boyfriend’s still thriving. Preston’s doing well (to the best of my knowledge, at least).

Patricia the Plant? Not so much.

Note to Mama: I don’t nor have ever viewed Patty as a love fern, so please know this: Her death, while might be in vain, is absolutely not a metaphor for how I view our relationship. I’m not a poet. I’m not that deep.

Sorry, Patty. You’ll be remembered forever.

Or at least until I forget you existed. Which might be tomorrow.

No hard feelings.

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