Little slap, little dash

I'm running a race in two days. That sounds slightly misleading, like maybe I'm trying to win a race because that's what racing is, when in fact I'm just trying to cross a finish line with as little discomfort as possible. (Fun fact: when you type "3m half marathon" into Google, you learn that 3 meters = 0.000142196983 of a half marathon. I think I've learned this about seven times now.) But despite my relatively unambitious goal of making it to lunchtime in one piece, I'm CONSERVING ENERGY like it's my job between now and Sunday morning. You know what takes energy? Well-thought out blog posts. How do I know all the thinking and spelling and such doesn't sap the life-force right out of my legs? I honestly think it might. No sense taking chances, so I'm cutting all the corners on this one.

I made more vegetables out of Plenty. I'm not linking to it for you. Garlic soup continues to not be garlicky enough for me. There is blog precedent for this problem. I'm not linking to it for you.

Fiiiiiiiine, I'm not going to deny you already-transcribed recipes.

The girls made amusingly ambivalent faces at the playground this morning. I half-baked a joke about them being mad at the air quality for trying to fell their mother, you can finish that up in your head if you want.

Okay! Good! I skated through that one with almost no effort at all. I would say I'll be back in fighting form by next week, but, you know, I'll probably be pretty tired. From the racing.