Signs, signs, everywhere signs.

According to the schedule, yesterday was a run day and ever an obedient miss, I was r-u-n-n-i-n-g.

All day long.

From here to there and back again.

Determined not to end up on the treadmill at 10 o'clock after everyone was in bed, with but an hour left before the littlest Stink returned home on the bus, I was a woman with a mission.

The mission: to squeeze in my 45 minute run during the 45 degree day.

"It's a sign", I thought (I'm big into signs) - "destiny even", (I'm even bigger into destiny) "45 minutes in 45 degrees".

I contemplated strategy and efficiency before I got home (I'm not so big on efficiency).

Upon my arrival I leaped deftly from the car, and humped an impressive 6 bags from the market on each arm toward the house. I even managed to get the door open without dropping nary a single one!

I might have made it all the way to the kitchen without incident had I not tripped on this:

I assure you that it was not piled so neatly at the time, but you get the idea.

If you are an observant type, you might note that there is only one of each pair of shoes in this pile.

There is in fact, one of the sweet navy flats worn to Europe last spring and it's coordinating comfy insert.

Also, one kitten heeled loafer like pump that puts the fun in functional.

In addition, (gasp) the right Mizuno running shoe with special tri-elastic laces chewed off.

Lying around and about this pile were several half eaten socks, the contents of my twelve market bags and also this curious new-ish member to the House of Stink with half of a lace hanging from his mouth:

You might think that this development dissuaded me from my original purpose. You are only correct in so far as I had to gather the market stuffs and pile them on the counter, throw the cold goods in the fridge and the pooch outside and check the dressing room for further collateral damage.

Considering my aforementioned affinity toward signs and the like, you might assume that I would take this sad shoe carnage as a message of foreboding.

Destiny urging ... DO NOT RUN TODAY!

I'll admit, I did briefly think the same. But here's the thing:

It's not like the littlest pooch ate my shoe... just the laces, and I have an extra pair of laces in my tri bag (sign...preparation pays off). Further, while the loss of my sweet blue flats and FUNctional loafers pangs my shoe-hoarders heart (sign...step away from the shoe store... or more room for shoes!), upon examination of the dressing room I found...Oh, happy day...

These, my most favorit-est of red shoes (save my ruby slippers, of course), were safe and quietly resting in their place.

( sign... red shoes harbor amazing powers that none of us fully understands).

so...
5 Miles in 45 Minutes in 45 Degrees and back 5 minutes before the bus - now that's a sign.