Today I made a promise to myself to not be a slacker. I'm starting to feel like, as these gray South Bend days are sauntering by, I'm kind of letting them seep into my cognitive and emotional processes. After all, summertime should make you want to go out and DO STUFF, not sit around in sweats with perpetual messy-bunned hair waiting for the next way-too-sappy romcom to start. Which is kiiinda what I've been doing. Completely guilty. When my two mile run early this week practically kicked my butt [frustrating, after almost a whole semester in sunny-wonderful Northern Virginia of being in really good shape], I started thinking and realized that I should reeeaaally get a handle on myself before the summer slips by and I'm still sitting on my living room sofa wishing I was somewhere else. Nope. Not gonna let this pass me by. I'm going to run. A lot. I'm going to read C.S. Lewis books and keep thinking. I'm going to pray while I drink my coffee in the morning and maybe catch some sunrises. I'm gonna sit on my roof and lie under the stars because I can. I'm going to bond with old friends who I'm going to miss when I'm gone. I want this summer to fill me up, not bring me down.
I went on a good run today. The kind that leaves you aching and breathless at the end but still leaves you feeling like somehow, despite your physical fatigue, you can keep going. It started out rough though, not gonna lie. A mile in, I was miserable, but once your legs and body remember that old rhythm, you kind of feel unstoppable. I remembered how much I love running. How good it makes me feel. It's the cheapest high you'll ever get, people. I've gotten into the habit of running without music. It's enough with me in my head, much less having T-Pain fry my brain waves. I think when I run and sometimes I pray. I go through memories, come to realizations, and like myself better more every time I lace up my Asics and just go. Running therapy really is the best kind.
I saw this little boy playing in his driveway when I was riding my bike today [yes, I did kinda keep going after my feel-good run], and he was in a batman costume. It was way too small for him, and his diaper butt just made it even more funny. A lot of the time I wish I was still a little kid... then I remember that I totally still am. [When appropriate, of course.]
I miss my sisters a whole lot. Becca and Annie are like the dream team sisters. Seriously, I don't think I could be any more lucky to have them. Becca is the constant thinker, the self-knowing, incredibly wise, responsible friend who everyone appreciates and looks up to. Annie has the same independent, responsible and wise character. She is less out-spoken, not introverted, but kind of quiet in her confidence. She never draws attention to herself but she is incredibly worthy of it. That girl has a heart of gold. Becca is scatterbrained and Annie is organized, but they are both geniuses. Annie just graduated in 4 years with her masters degree in forensic accounting. III definitely didn't get that gene. And little miss Beccasmartypants is working in DC blowing everyone's minds with her wit and affinity for writing. Both of my sisters are so amazing. We are all so different but I catch myself feeling really proud when someone tells me I remind them of either Becca or Annie. They're pretty rad role models if you ask me. I love them both dearly.
My mom just came into my room humming the Puff the Magic Dragon theme song. I love that woman.
It's Saturday night, know what that means? In the Feeks household [Feeks is plural in this case because as far as I know, all of my Dad's siblings and parents partake in this weekly tradition] it is hamburger night. Rain or shine, sleet or snow, without fail, my daddy is at the grill at approximately 6:30 grilling his famous Mikey Feeks burgers while Ore-Ida french fries are in the oven. I actually can't remember a Saturday night without hamburgers. You can tell my dad comes from a military family because at approximately 5:45, either he or one of my little brothers is making his way around the house making a list of who wants what kind of cheese on their burger or if they want just a plain hamburger. Everyone gets says much the same thing every week, but I'll be darned if he doesn't need his list. My dad is famous [small town, ya know? Hahh, not really] for his hamburgers and hot wings. You better believe that my junior-in-high school brother John and his friends storm my home on Friday nights pleading with my father to blow their minds yet again with his buffalo wing expertise. Whatta guy. I love him.
Uhp, dinner time! Yumyum, you should be envious. This is going to be delicious.
Life is good today, I'm choosing to be happy. To be grateful and thoughtful and not throw my days away. After all, each one's different and time doesn't wait. Ever.
p.s. Did you know that there's a museum of strawberries in Belgium? I didn't. But my Snapple cap sure did.
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