Anonymous and I, a love story

 
It’s been a while since I’ve had a comment from one of my twenties of fans that has spoken to me so intensely, so wholly, so profoundly. Well, at least not since the Days of Swimfan, who had such a deep abiding obsession with my finely-honed athletic self, it was almost a bit embarrassing. Almost, I say, because I’m used to that kind of adoration, but still. Anyway, lo these few years later, we find ourselves in a similar place, dear reader, albeit without the cookins and the image of Swimfan as a member of the Polish cycling team in bright red and overly tight biking shorts. Thank god.

Because this was the comment on my last post:

“Miss Tasha, how about a positive attitude, like when you sign up for a run, or bike race and sit back, eat crap and don't train and poof you do it.  If tests are negative there is always adoption correct?  You will be providing a needy child with all you have and that is a lot, it might be too much.

Also what do you think Kona will say?”


And you know what? Fuck yeah. I mean, not that I’ve been sitting around wallowing in self-pity, no sirree. But if anyone can make the impossible things happen, why that would be me, hands down. And it’s true – I do sign up for things, have great intentions, look for my running shoes for months, wind up taking my cycling shoes to a half-marthon, yet I still go ahead and do it. I’m stupid that way. Who else did the Goofy that one year (half marathon on Sat, full on Sunday) and screwed up her foot on Saturday but decided it would be a great idea to do the marathon anyway and wound up destroying her feet and legs so much that she had to be wheeled through the airport? Yep, that would be me too. “Stubborn” is practically my middle name.

So fuck yeah, this is going to be happen, one way or another. I already envision me and The Damians (I picture 3 little hellions) out on the back 40, toting those bales and plowing those fields, before we sit down to some Kool-Aid and cheez doodles. Oh sure, they say babies shouldn’t eat that stuff, but what do the so-called experts know? Not more than me, certainly.

Thanks for the words of encouragement, Anonymous. Sometimes it’s good to be reminded of what an optimistic full-speed-ahead idiot I am, rationality be damned. Oh, and when I’m out and about, I’m constantly asking myself WWKW, or What Would Kona Want, naturally. Kone wants a sibling or three – he loves the little bastards. I don’t know if it’s because of the crumb detritus left on their face and hands, but whatever. Love.

So it has been spoken, so it shall be done.