The Perfect Race

So, it was a really long winter and we got a bit loopy at the MacFuddle house. 

WARNING! If this post begins to seem strange/obsessive or plain boring, feel free to skip. As background, you should know that I belong to the best running group, possibly in the world, but definitely in this city, called "I Beg Your Garmin".  There are six of us with what I mentally call "Gold Status" as we have been running together consistently for almost two years, now. I use the term running loosely because as much as we run together we also gab together, travel together, do girly stuff together, etc.  I haven't cleared the "Gold Status" concept with the group so it is subject to heated debate, and change, if we don't get distracted by something else shinier.  We have other, newer members of "I Beg Your Garmin" who are terrific, too, and I promise to make something special for them when they reach "Gold Status". (Some of these ladies successfully completed another either 5K or half-marathon last Saturday and deserve some recognition so here you go: woot woot!)  For now, to the special "Gold Status" members of "I Beg Your Garmin", this post will eventually, unbelievably, circle back to you. There is a possibility you will be glad you suffered through. Everyone else has my permission to pretend to not see this post and I will never mention it again. 

So, the day PHD and I launched into a diorama discussion (Yes that is a TV in my hallway) and I had to Google dioramas to show him, I started obsessing over dioramas and minatures.   Not old-guy-creating-trainsets type minatures, these are cute ones! I have seen them called them "Art Boxes".  I think that is a better description and it doesn't seem so silly if I call them Art.  I created a display of Art Boxes in my hallway:

I had to crop the photo tightly so you couldn't see all the fingerprints all over my walls...

The Art Box in the centre is called "Magnets" to represent this post: I wouldn't lick that if i were you .  It may be hard to tell from this picture but the little guy is leaning against the monkey bars, with his tongue.

I call the bottom Art Box "Terry Fox" to represent the post QCM Race Report:

Meanwhile, Boy 2 was entertaining himself by building a square turtle on a pile of rocks,



 trying to determine how many shirts he can wear at once.



The answer is 5

 and catching a few rays.

Yes, that is snow in the background

PHD and Boy 1 went a different way...

Can you tell what they are trying to do?  Can you tell me?

While they were doing whatever that was, I made the Art Box on the top of the collection.  Here is the part where it may (or may not) get interesting for my running friends. The art box on the top of my collection (in the bad picture at the beginning of this post) is called "The Perfect Race". 

The picture doesn't do it justice but each one of the little people looks like one of the ladies in our group, Michelle, me, Maryann, Cindy, Margaret and Leanne.  I imagine the little members of "I Beg Your Garmin" running their perfect little race saying things like, "Training Works!",  "Surely she sees that pylon", "I'm not cold, do you think I have too many layers on?", "What a beautiful day!", "Can we go farther?" and "I didn't cry once!!". Then after at least one of them gets a medal, doesn't matter who, they all stop to talk and laugh.  See? The Perfect Race. 

So, we have learned two things today - spring needs to stay or I am in danger of losing my mind and I need a new camera along with some photography lessons, quickly!

This Monday is sponsored by adrenaline

In January, I tried to set up a nice little routine for Monday evenings.  I go to a community association boot camp at the school then PHD brings the kids an hour later and the kids attend a Fit Kids class while we do yoga. I think it worked out that way twice since January.  Usually PHD has some type of injury, somebody's sick or some type of disaster has taken place which prevents this little routine from working out. 

Today's disaster began when I left for bootcamp understanding that PHD would bring the boys for Fit Kids at 7.  Just before 7, I see Boy 1 stroll in with his ripstick.  I see PHD casually stroll in, wave, look around then leave.  By the time he was far enough away that he thought I couldn't see him, he started walking quicker.  Here's a tip - if you are trying to be sneaky don't wear a yellow sweatshirt.  I say to my neighbor, "Hmm, I bet PHD has lost Boy 2."  It's like I have ESP or something. I go to the Fit Kids class and ask Boy 1 where his brother is.  "I dunno, Dad can't find him."  Dad can't find him.  Seems like something you should tell your wife.  I get a few more details from Boy 1.  I think he is with his little buddy, let's call him Norm.  I am not sure where Norm lives or his last name. Off to a great start.  I hop in the car and drive home.  PHD's truck is parked in the middle of the street and PHD is pacing up and down the street cursing.  We are classy like that.  He yelled the story at me, it made no sense.  But, it seems Boy 2 was home since the last time PHD left because he left his blue bike on the step as a clue and his old red bike is missing. This is like a cartoon.  Probably the Simpsons. Everytime the truck leaves and turns the corner, the kid on the bike returns. Kid leaves, truck returns. Maybe this will be hilarious some other day.  Not today.

I send PHD down the street to start knocking on doors.  I roll my window down and start yelling at people on the street, "If you see a kid in a red helmet, send him home!"  I caught a canvasser, a jogger, another mother I know and a teenager that ran in his house and probably locked the door after talking to the crazy lady burning up and down the street, yelling out her window.  After knocking on a few doors we figure out that Norm lives in the apartment building down the street.  I tell PHD, "If we don't find him there, I am calling the police."  For once he doesn't tell me I am overreacting.  When we get to the apartment building we see a red bike on the step, and one of Boy 2's friends coming out of the building.  I got his friend to lead me back into the building to the apartment where Boy 2 is playing.  I note that Boy 2 has left his boots at the front door of the apartment building.  It occurs to me that he has probably never been to an apartment so he thinks this is the front door.  Very polite of him to take his boots off.  Anyway, of course we find Boy 2 at Norm's house right where he thinks he is supposed to be. He says he told Dad where he was going. 

After we were all back home and over the adrenaline rush, somewhat, my mom called and offered to take the kids for a few days over Easter.  I tried to send PHD too.  She kept changing the subject.  I don't think she's taking him.  I don't think he's safe here, either.  But, then, as I type this I think maybe we just have a communication problem.  I only said, "I'm leaving, see you there."  I didn't ever explicitly say, "You are now responsible to keep track of the children" to PHD.  Or maybe, "I am leaving 2 kids, please have 2 kids here when I return."  I could have phoned during water break at bootcamp and said, "Quick head count, how many kids do you have there?"

So, probably all my fault.  Either way, I am going to have wine now.