Saturday was just ill-fated from the beginning**. After a kind of shitty night's sleep, I really wanted to run. So after a bowl of oatmeal and some snuggle time with the kid, Ruby and I headed a ways out of town. I wanted to run this road that goes past the old cement factory and turns into a wildlife refuge. Supposedly great views of our surrounding mountain ranges and all that. Unfortunately, while in town it had seemed relatively calm, if cold, out on the high plains there were hurricane force winds whipping snow and tumleweeds around willy-nilly.
But, being the stubborn idiot I can be sometimes, we set out anyway. It was awful. A facebook friend commented that my particular locale is known for its "free microdermabrasions" and holy shit she's not kidding. 3 miles and 30 horrible minutes later, I had grit in my eyes, nose, and mouth and was half wondering if there was any skin left on my face.
We finally made it back to town, and I decided to drive through for a pumpkin pie latte as a consolation prize. As we pulled into the coffee hut, Ruby puked all over the passenger seat of my husband's car. Sigh. I thought puppies grew out of car sickness...?
Finally, we made it home and as I pulled into the driveway, I saw the husband and the kiddo standing on the stoop.
The kid's face looked like this:
He'd lept off the coffee table and directly into a wooden cabinet. This picture was the day of. You should see it now- he looks like a prize fighter with lots of purple and blue around that pretty eye.
Thank goodness this is a 2-day week for me with a 5-day holiday weekend because fuck.
**There was ONE fun thing on Saturday- I caught a showing of that one big movie about the boy wizard that night with friends. Loved it. RIP Dobby the Elf!!