So, today we went to a great little southeastern Minnesota treasure called Oxbow Park and Zollman Zoo (more tomorrow, in my ABC Summer report, because this "field trip" was for "Z" week) and tried on turtle shells.
We also fed the goats--A LOT--before noticing the sign that said to please not feed the animals. Never mind that we've been here two times before and should know this by now.
And saw many other native-Minnesotan rescued/rehabbed animals, such as a great horned owl that had one eye missing, a buffalo calf with its mama, and a otter chomping on a raw chicken breast like he was sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner after a five-day juice fast.
We had a lot of fun. We go there every summer, generally with fellow-mom friends of mine and their kiddos, and we bring along a picnic lunch and make a good half-day of it.
In other, completely unrelated news, I recently wore my newly-acquired, obsessively-beloved, super-comfy, perfect in every way, bright-coral, Merona chino shorts from Target three days in a row, until Julia tactfully suggested I put them in the wash. My excuse was that they were not dirty, and that part of each of those days was spent at the pool, so it wasn't like I wore them for the whole day or anything. Please note that in the photo above, Julia (age 8) is wearing a size 5T sundress that she has owned for three summers. So who exactly is talking, here? I love my bright-coral chino shorts. Love them, love them, love them. May sneak them out of the dirty laundry to wear them again tomorrow.
Finally, I think I've neglected to mention here that my running--at last!--is going so well that I'm up to 9-mile runs on Sundays ("long run" day), and roughly 15 more miles than that throughout the week. After a full year of relentless hip/glute injury and very little running mileage, I finally feel "normal" again. Nine miles is the longest I've run since long before having babies--since 1998, in fact, when I ran the inaugural Chicago Half-Marathon during graduate school. (The next year, I developed arthritis in my feet and was forced to give up running and most other forms of exercise for several years. It's been a long road back.)
I will doggedly focus on the wonders of injury recovery and restored running ability, rather than on the fact that hello, WHY am I ten pounds heavier than I've been in YEARS when I'm RUNNING NEARLY 25 MILES A WEEK? Do not tell me it's from eating cookies & cream ice cream, chocolate-covered peanuts, and homemade rhubarb crumble pie. I will ignore you. My only explanation is that I must be pregnant. I mean, seriously, what other explanation could there possibly be for weight gain? (Don't pregnant women eat stuff like that? I think they do.)
So there you have it. Turtles, goats, dirty laundry, hysterical pregnancy. A day in the life.