Just happy

Yesterday morning, while trying to put together a bottle with a baby on my hip, I felt like a woman. The run-a-household, soothe-a-crying-baby, rearrange-the-cupboard-so-the-pans-don't-fall-down kind of woman.

Yesterday afternoon, while walking home from the bus with a flimsy purple draw-string backpack strung over my shoulders, I felt like a little girl.

Consistency is uncommon.

I walked to the Brookville Market, just down the street, because I had visions of broiling a bagel topped with smoked gouda, tomatoes, and spinach, but alas, I lacked the spinach. The market is charming in a small, brick kind of way, but not so charming in its stupid-expensive pricing. Four dollars for a bag of spinach? Looks like gouda and tomato will have to do.

Later Becky picked me up and we stopped in at Parkside for a minute to grab dinner and bikes. I took an ibuprofen because my lower back was killing me (but not stopping me!), and the two of us took the Rock Creek trail path further south than we've ever taken it before... 13.5 miles down through the beautifully lit golden-hour forest and along the rushing river.

I had one of those laugh-out-loud moments of complete joy and gratitude, whizzing along with Becky at my side. I'm so glad to have her; I'm so glad that she is willing to run herself into the ground with me so that we can catch as many of those moments as we can. Who cares if the way is long or the light is fading or our bones are aching? In good company, it's always a good time.