Almost 52...

If I don't write more or less first thing in the morning, I usually don't write at all.

But this morning I went running first, then got talking...
Now it's 3:20 p.m. and I'm at the coffee shop and not much feeling like writing but kinda want to anyway.
Hence, this.

I felt like a fraud writing I went running just now, because really I trot-walked for about 25 minutes.
But! I found permission to say so.
Look:

“If you run, you are a runner. It doesn't matter how fast or how far. It doesn't matter if today is your first day or if you've been running for twenty years. There is no test to pass, no license to earn, no membership card to get. You just run.” --John Bingham

You could apply that to writing too.
If you write, you are a writer....

I don't know who John Bingham is, so I just looked him up in the library catalog, and this book is on the shelf right now:
An Accidental Athlete: A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to Middle Age 
I think I'll pop on the bus and go downtown and check it out.

Here are a couple runners wearing impressive rhino costumes for a fundraising race Running for Rhinos.

My birthday is in a couple days.
I always like to do some life review around now.

To begin with, I'm happy in general, which is the best, most amazing thing!

That's largely due to living with Mz
... even though this morning she went running with me and ran off soooooo fast-- just because she's 30 years- and 30some pounds less than me, not to mention 3 inches taller---leaving me in the dust--and taking the one house key with her--
 which you might think would be disheartening, and which indeed might be, but is, luckily, offset by her gift to me of BRIGHT BLUE running pants.

My work life is in shambles, rather...
I don't have one, to begin with, since I quit my nursing assistant job in August, after pulling my wrist tendons (both hands!)--a condition called:

So then I was going to start a videography business, but I found out I have no entrepreneurial drive. (I also found out how to spell entrepreneurial! so the time wasn't altogether wasted.)

Thanks to my Uncle Tony (r.i.p.) leaving me in his will, however, I've been able to afford to hang out until my hands healed.
(thankgod, thank Tony)
The O.T. said 8 to 12 MONTHS for full healing.
Here at 7 months, my hands are almost completely strong again---though I still can't pick up the iron skillet and turn it over or unhook my bra behind my back.

So, once again, I need to get job hunting. Not sure what.
Jobs I have ruled out:
heavy lifting
business ownership
marathon running

OK, the library closes in an hour so I'm going to sign off.
All for now!