Marathon Man

I want to write about winter with stated elegance. Instead I will tell you about my warm, refinished oak wood floors.

I could fill you in on the despair of the last week, but now I have passed into a wonderful phase. This life section is called “We are moving back home next week.” It also has subtitles:

  • I researched and wrote my first assignments for a new client, and they loved them.
  • It’s KK’s 8th birthday this weekend, and the girl loves a celebration.
  • Marathon Man is an excellent movie.

This last subtitle might seem a bit strange to you. But when was the last time you rented and watched a movie and it delivered satisfaction? I actually own thirtysomething and sitting through episodes of this show leaves me bereft. But Marathon Man featured a young, kind-of dashing Dustin Hoffman, who was a runner, which we all know is a blessing and so cool. There was intrigue, suspense, and WWII references for my husband. Perfection.

Such a delightful movie-watching event was a good appetizer for all the other excellent things happening in my life. Please note: Overwhelming work anxiety, tiredness, and the idea of moving again left me in a puddle on the floor just last week. The secret salve that took me to this euphoric life stage I am experiencing today? Watch Oprah at 4 today. She knows the answer.

Does that annoy you? I can’t watch Oprah anymore either. Her birthday party that cost a trillion dollars was the beginning of the end of our viewing relationship. I am supposed to buck up and stop going to Starbucks all the time, but her party guests each had a personal waiter. There are people starving right outside your studio, lady, get with it!

The topical cream I applied to my sadness and fear contained tears, and included finishing my assignments for the new gig, hanging out with those crazy kids of mine, and renting Marathon Man. Or you can just read the magnet I thought was currently residing on my mother-in-law’s fridge. For goodness sakes, I think I lost it in the last move. This magnet read: “The best way out is always through.” Thanks, Robert Frost.

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