Guess what? I’m going to Utah.
Why? Well, why not? It seems like a nice enough place.
Also, there’s a marathon being held up there this weekend, and I’ve never seen one before, so I thought I’d go see how they run (excuse the pun).
Oh, yeah—and my sister is competing in it. (Ha! Did you think I was going to run a marathon? So silly—you obviously haven’t read this blog long enough if you think I’m an exercise person. I’m not.
I am very proud of my sister—this will be her second whole marathon (she’s also run a half marathon). Her baby boy is not yet 18 months—I think it’s a pretty amazing accomplishment. Unfortunately, her successes have a tendency to be so grand that no good thing I do can ever measure up. She ran the first marathon. She birthed the first grandchild. She aspired for a Masters (Master’s? Masters’? Obviously I don’t deserve one, since I can’t even punctuate it properly) degree. She’s the favourite.
But then, that’s how my sister is. Everything she does, she does to perfection. Not only did she get her Masters (sp?) degree, but she finished it while pregnant with her first baby, and working full time. Not only did she birth the first grandchild of the family, but the child also happens to be the cutest boy ever to walk the face of this earth—how can I compete with that? It’s easy, I’ll tell you—I don’t.
That’s not to say that I’ll never do good things with my life. I’m sure I will. I’m sure I already have. But my aspirations are different from hers. She married the first boy she ever dated seriously; I married my fifth. She does not have a blog and swears she never will; I do have a blog and can’t imagine ever quitting. She likes her french toast soaked in egg mixture till the bread loses all bread texture and tastes more like the texture of moss; I like a nice quick dip in the eggs for a more crispy outer shell. She spot-cleans her floor on an hourly basis; I sweep and mop only before I leave out of town, because I know my mother-in-law will drop off our mail and inadvertently see if I left things tidy.
We’re just different, that’s all. Different and good.
Stay tuned for updates of her grand event. And wish me luck in Utah. Oh yeah—and wish my sister luck, too. (She is the one running 26.2 miles, after all…)