Sick, Slow & Smelly

This weekend was unexpectedly and pleasantly low key. A cold crept up on all three of us, so we enacted a voluntary quarantine Saturday and Sunday.

Around here that meant bailing from any scheduled activities with the intent of recouping at home, but getting stir crazy after about 15 minutes and finding something else to do. We made  a quick trip to a nearby park Saturday afternoon and the wildlife showed up to greet us.

Little Bambi.

deer cross deer

And Little Eat Your Face Off.

gator arrow

Because of the long run looming over my head, I actually brought my garmin in hopes we’d walk so briskly I could subtract that mileage from my run. When I looked down and it had been 17 minutes and we’d done a 0.07 mile zig zag, I decided to just go ahead and power that beast down.

We had to rush home to make kickoff of the FSU game. And then settle in to watch them score 62 points. Not one point got old to watch, by the way.

Sidenote: we’re officially booked for a game in Tallahassee with my brother and sister in law! We’re staying with one of my most awesome friends from college and his will-be-like-seven-months-pregnant wife. Could we be any more inconvenient house guests?

That night, Clayton represented the whole Noa clan at our friend’s baptism and I played hooky with Addison. Her idea of tailgating wore us both out.

This position. That face. All morning long.

This position. That face. All morning long.

Sunday we kept all of our germs away from church. Instead, I shared them with a lonely treadmill at the gym for 6 miles and what felt like two days of running. I was late getting home for the Dolphins game, but Clayton forgave me after they finally got the W. And only after they got the W.

fins C A

After the game we popped into Barnes & Noble for a quick coffee and bumped into my bestie Leah and her little stud, Max. Addison and Max did some laps around the train table and through the children’s section before we parted ways–somewhat prompted by the smell wafting up from Max’s jersey shorts–and spent a mellow night at home.

I feel like I need to clarify here that Max is Leah’s child. And he is less than two years old. She does not routinely sniff any other male’s jersey shorts, that I know of.

On that note.

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