We’ve been on the ground in Denver for over two weeks now, and honestly, it feels like we never left…like maybe Rome was some kind of gauzy, fading dream (nightmare? Perhaps at times) that fades a little more upon waking each morning.
We just left a baptism + party with about 50 of our closest friends, and it was such a perfect representation of everything we’d missed about our old life: tons of friends, a plethora of pregnant bellies, fantastic microbrews, Cool Ranch Doritos, and a few priests and religious brothers wandering around in the mix, just for good measure. In short, it was a snapshot of our life and our community here, and now that we’re back in the midst of it, I cannot seriously imagine every uprooting our family to leave again.
I’m never leaving the suburbs.
It feels odd saying so, but after almost 31 years, I think those mythical ‘roots’ referenced in an earlier post this week are finally starting to stretch and grow. I can’t explain to any sane person why living in the suburbs and driving a mini van is somehow more exciting and more fulfilling than international travel…but it is. Or why Target is more stimulating than an ethnic farmer’s market bustling with local produce and the resultant vermin drawn in by the promise of the absence of a public health code.
What can I say? I guess I’ve become domesticated in my old age.
I’ve also become very, very dependent upon daily doses of Chipotle to satisfy my cumin-starved palate, but my ever growing baby bump and our bank account are red flagging me that this might not be the best road to travel for the next 4 months. Also, I need to start working out again pronto, but I cannot bring myself to sign up for a gym membership when it’s this gorgeous outside. Plus, it’s now approximately a million dollars a month to rock a 24 membership with two kid club add ons. Thanks, but for $120 monthly, I’m choosing the weekly pedicure/magazine purchase option.
Any thoughts on the wisdom or stupidity of getting back into running at 6 months pregnant? It has been a good 8 months since I’ve run any substantial amount (read: more than .5 miles) and yes, I’ve put on a good 15 lbs of gravity-shifting midriff weight in that time…but still. My shoes are still in decent shape, and there are nice, flat, paved trails right outside our house. Would I be stupid to try? Will I have to wear Depends? Will I re-read this entry in November and cackle hysterically while lying prone on the couch in a post-turkey coma, watching the needle on the scale creep ever upward and knowing I can do nothing to change it?
Any pregnant runners out there? I ran for the first four months of Joey’s pregnancy, but my back was shot by JP’s, so I dwelt in the water and on the elliptical machine.
Hoping your holiday weekend is filled with processed meats, cold beers, and present husbands.