One Week...

Sunny Saturdays are always good for what ails me. It was particularly nice because Mark took the kids to his new favorite spot, Chick-Fil-A, to play on the chilly, but sunny, playground while he caught up with a friend. Apparently Heath was more interested in the three Girl Scouts selling cookies. And not for the cookies either. They ranged from age 8-10. Even better. Heath likes his ladies a little bit older. Good grief, Mrs. Robinson.

While all the Girl Scout flirting and Chicken burrito eating took place, I got my haircut and eyebrows waxed. I nearly fell asleep while I was lying on the table, having hot wax spread across my brow. Then she did the ripping part. Now matter how much I prepare myself, I always jump, and often, tear up. She told me a nine year old girl was the client before me, getting rid of her Bert eyebrow. Her mother was with her, of course. Of course.

My half-marathon is in one week. One last ten-miler tomorrow. I haven't run in two days. I am bursting at the seams to get out there. So glad to see there's more sun in the forecast. And Mark and I have a lovely date night planned for tomorrow. Woo-hoo.

In the meantime, we are watching The Informant tonight and eating loads of Cherry Cordial and Black Raspberry ice cream.

That's if I can get Mark to turn off Cops. That show makes my belly hurt.