flightless birds

On this day, the day we all sit and celebrate turkey murder, I deemed it appropriate to discuss a number of things - but most importantly our dear friends the domesticated flightless birds.

My first thought on our domesticated friends is, wow it must suck being you. Welcome to our domesticated lifestyle; born inside, live inside, die inside. And of course, even though we may not eat the cat, you and your penned swine friends ultimately wine up on our plates. You are born not knowing that your ancestors and wild friends do fly - up to 55 miles per hour (so google tells me). All you know is what's in front of you. And that - dear bloggers - is one of my astonishing and thought provoking points of the day.

Kid #1 asked me yesterday as she went to bed why I am running? I thought about that. Why? It isn't like I am endlessly running, it isn't a habit - gosh it is still a pain in the butt. Leave my bed, go outside in the cold? Lose my breathe? What for? My answer to her was, because as your mother I felt a big responsibility to stay alive for a very long time and running helps keep me healthy in order to do that. She was astonished that mothers had to think about these things. She also wanted to know why I was cooking after everyone went to bed, or doing the laundry. Because, according to her, this would be a good time to eat ice cream and watch tv. It was an interesting conversation.

It's very easy to slip into a routine that is too comfortable. Being happy does not necessarily mean sticking to what you know. And my last astonishing point of the morning is this; we are flightless and some might even venture to suggest that we are also domesticated too.