Toenail love

It’s 8:15 pm and Eliot and I have turned in for the night.  We made it exactly 15 minutes after we put the boy down.  Eliot’s reading “The Complete Joy of Home Brewing” while I type.  I expect to look over and see the book resting on his face in a few minutes.  It’s been a long weekend: BBQs, mother in-law birthdays, the cat and the visiting shih tzu’s worrying each other, and Alter G-ing.

Our first annual summer BBQ was a success.  There was grilling, and coolers full of beer, and kids running around laughing.   There was even some bocce ball playing.  (Italian-American BBQ.)  We decided to hold it at the park down the street in the end, so we’d have access to a big grill (ours is fit for the grilling needs of a family of elves), and the neighborhood pool.  Our neighborhood is old and the park and pool are shaded with large live oaks.  There used to be a cute pond with ducks and fish behind the pavilion there, but it’s mostly dried up in the drought.  It has more of a cesspool look to it now, and there’s a sign warning that while fishing is okay, you’d best not eat anything you pull out of the water.  It’s hard to imagine who would need a sign like that to keep them safe.  I mean, even in its less sludge-like state, the pond looked like it might house four-eyed fish.  And some of the ducks were mangy.  (The others had unfortunate tumors.)

John was presented with an award to thank him for his efforts at creating a such a fine community of ultra trail runners here in San Antonio.  (I know not all of you were here, or got the very last-minute invite this year.  This will be rectified at the Second Annual Heart of Texas Rockhoppers BBQ.)

It’s a toenail people.

I couldn’t feel more blessed to know these folks.  You should come run with us.  You’ll feel the same.  No promises about toenail awards though.  John is pretty special.

(Do send me a note if you want to get on the Rockhopper e-mail list.)

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