Remember when Forrest Gump starting running just because he felt like it?

Same

So I was just walking along the pathway as usual, Daisy a little floating ghost behind me in my extended peripheral, beautiful fresh not-dying-from-the-heat blue sky and the apples all big and red and fragrant.

The path goes through an ancient orchard and pretty soon sections of ground will be covered with fermented apples and animals will stagger around drunk and I don’t know what I’m going to do this year now that straws have been banned.

Anyway. I just started running and you know what? It was easy.

Maybe it’s all that uphill humping which should really be climbing for the benefit of the visual thinkers out there

Last time I ran outdoors was the last time for a reason. It was the Terry Fox run in Minden a couple of Septembers ago. 10k which I worked up to on the treadmill and was pretty sure I could manage maybe not with ease but at least not the fucking gasping mess it actually was. That’s when I learned that a treadmill does half the running for you. All you gotta do is bounce on time. No hills or asphalt or soft shoulders or Indian summer or fucking grasshoppers or heat bugs or kids on their bikes saying c’mon mom I thought you could run.

Wish they could have seen me today

Or do I? Just like Daisy in my pretend behind peripheral which is actually my imagination, the way I pictured myself could have been exactly the opposite of the way I looked. I mean people on the trail seemed a little surprised-to-startled at me and now that I’m thinking about it, this reaction could be construed in a number of ways. But let’s just say that in all of the construable ways, I was gaspy.

The Great Gaspy

Thanks Spellcheck. I owe you one.

I hope you don’t mind when I post recipes. I’m not trying to be one of those blogs, but sometimes I make something that’s so fucking good I can’t believe I’ve never made it before which is usually the reason I put it here for you because I always think you and me are in the same bowl. You know what I mean. At least you do if you’re in my bowl. So anyway. How on earth did pesto escape me all these years? I mean maybe I had it here or there now and then, but nothing memorable. Clearly.

Pesto was just a way to explain away the green bits on old bread

Every year I grow herbs and every year I don’t use them much but this year I saw the basil all blowsy out there and googled pesto and my life changed. Tonight I am making it again. Excellent tomatoes, that soft floating mozzarella that I used to think was silly and tasteless and now adore. Also I fucking know they’re expensive but pine nuts are the huckleberries of the coniferous world so gird it and get them. You’ll see.

And I am making my own naan tonight, too, which will be my very first experience using yeast so you know what I’ll talk about in my next blog. Although I’ve been thinking… if Spellcheck continues to be god and keeps its ego in check, I might just let it write the next blog

Pesto makes me wonder what else I might be missing

Not FLEABAG any more that’s for sure, and I didn’t even know I was missing it until I found it which makes the experience kind of extra if you know what I mean.

No void to fill so I’m on a sort of happy overflow

Same with running, I guess. Also the yoga. I’m brand new at it and am doing a 30 day challenge.

Today is day 5 and if the new days keep being so exponentially different from the day before, in 30 days I should be somewhere in Tibet