Though in violation of every fashion rule imaginable, the little gingham-donning farm girl knew best when she clicked her glittery heels together and declared that there's no place like home. I spent a wonderful week with my mother, taking care of some past-life business in Houston and altogether relaxing and enjoying being cooked for and having someone to make my bed for me, seeing people I dearly love, visiting my favorite city spots, and enjoying fare from around the world. But the moment my eyes caught a glimpse of the dried up periwinkles I watered so faithfully through the sultry southeast Texas summer, I knew I was home, and my heart skipped a beat when my loving husband greeted me at the waterhose (those poor periwinkles were so dry!) with a giant hug.
The time there filled me up. It also provided a giant head-start on race details: something I likely would not have accomplished whilst wearing the hats of wife, mother, teacher, chef, nurse, maid, chauffeur, manager, gardener, yard boy, beautician, etc. So now it's training time. I've warned the family to enjoy what's left of the ramen noodles and potato chips, for there will be no more. Much to their chagrin, we will all soon be snacking on carrot sticks and peanuts. Sooner than I think, they'll be wishing I was back in Houston so they could enjoy another week of Dad's homecooked Big Macs! But that's ok, because it's time to shape up! Much gratitude to my baby boy Jack for having his second birthday tomorrow. At least that allows us to climb atop our sugar wagons with a bang!
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