It's time for weekend round-up! Woooo! The internet demands to know about my weekend so, who am I to deny these inquisitive packets their manifest destiny? Feast upon my weekendy bits, little packets. Sooo good.

Saturday morning I went for a two-hour run. I'll be running the Chicago Marathon this October so my training runs are getting longer and longer. I fully intend to qualify for Boston this time, unless I give up, which astute readers will realize I am prepared to do (at any time!). After this difficult run I found out that I ran too hard. I wasn't really aware that you could run too hard, but apparently our running coach had intended the majority of this run to be done at an easy pace. Somehow, I misunderstood what "easy" meant. Yes, I do feel stupid. And tired.

Afterwards I stopped by a sporting goods store to buy some new running shoes. Foolishly, I informed my wife of this errand and she then asked me to pick her up a swimsuit. Yes, a swimsuit. We're going on vacation this week and apparently she needs a new swimsuit. Now, understand that typically when my wife goes shopping for swimsuits, or other random clothing items, there are large amounts of frustration and anger (hers, not mine) associated with the process and the products. My strategy during these shopping trips is to quietly lurk in the background, saying very little. Years of experience have taught me that comments like "That looks nice" are met with snorts of derision.

So, needless to say, I was reluctant to insert myself into this process, but she insisted. My task was then to purchase a size X swimsuit, pastel-colored, with something called breast-support. Of course no one swimsuit met all these absurd criteria and I was left thrusting several swimsuits at the cashier, begging him to tell me which one was closest to pastel-colored. After much squinting, we chose the mostly-black one.

Astonishingly, my wife likes the swimsuit. Our marriage endures.

Today we went to go celebrate my mother's birthday at my sister's house. I appreciate my family a lot more now that I have a small child who requires much entertaining. When we're at my sister's house, my daughter plays with her two cousins, unaided, the whole time. It's like I don't even have a child. I'm not quite sure what they're doing for all those hours. Sometimes the two five year-olds and the eight year-old just sit around talking. What do five year-olds have to talk about with each other? Candy? I must admit, candy is mighty compelling and tasty.

Tonight we have to complete one of our major pre-vacation chores. We must slog through as many hours as possible of TiVo programming. TiVo is, as the government stated in one of their what-do-you-mean-separation-of-church-and-state moments, divine. However, you don't want to have a big backlog of stale TV when you get back from vacation. Shows like the Olympics or the Daily Show are perishable and must be watched in a timely fashion. Wait too long and you're the only one at the water-cooler still cracking wise about J. Lo, or Michael Jackson, or disco, or how fat William Taft is. Oh, TiVo Lord, I shall worship at thine altar tonight.