Still sick, dammit.

I am really tired of this flu thing. Geneva was up most of the night and when she finally slept I couldn't because my head was throbbing from the coughing and the sinus infection. The only upside to the sinus infection is the interesting-looking stuff that comes out when I blow (c'mon, you know you look at yours', too). I haven't been able to eat much, so that is another plus - hopefully the scale will show me something good, although I doubt I will be able to lose this last 15lbs. before family pictures on Friday. Who knows, though - if I can blow out all this crap in my sinuses, I might just pull it off.

I really want to run. I am actually looking forward to the training for Detroit, not just the marathon itself. Right now, though, running feels like a million miles away because of how I feel. Last night as I lay on the floor next to the couch where Geneva was sleeping (I made Jon go to bed early by himself so he could get over this) I was just hoping that if my head wasn't going to get any better that it would just freakin' explode and get it over with. I know that's melodramatic, but I am just miserable and I am really pissed about it.

I need to take a picture of my Flying Pig bling - it's an awesome medal. Geneva's was really impressive, too - it was an actual metal medal and quite large for a litte one. They put on a great event.

We are (obviously) staying home from ballet today. Waiting for Geneva at ballet is seriously my only non-family adult interaction for the week and I miss it. There are some other moms there who are really awesome and I enjoy our conversations. After the recital this weekend, ballet is over for 3 months and I am devastated. I tried to break into the some of the mommy cliques at the waterpark last summer but apparently I'm not cool enough to hang with them (what was it about me they find so offensive? The tattoos? The bandannas? The matronly skirted swimsuit? The hint of disdain in my eyes while viewing the plethora of designer diaper bags and Chanel sunglasses?).

OK, I'm off to the couch to moan in self-pity.