Today, my mother and I took my son to the Abraham Lincoln National Historic Park, as well as some other places. For the most part it was pretty fun - there was even a nature walk through the land around his birthplace, very serene. When we were through gawking and taking pictures, we took our sweaty selves to lunch at a chicken place. This is where I should have known better than to eat someone else's chicken when away from home. As a general rule, chicken - whether it be grilled, breaded or fried - makes me ill when I eat it at a restaurant. I don't know if it's the spices or what, but I've now spent the last several hours sick as a dog and fervently wishing I hadn't eaten it. Death seems welcome as an option at this point, rather than this sickness. UGH.
My bike still sits there looking at me, and I apologize to it on a daily basis. Due to a change in positions at my place of employment, I now walk up and down a set of about 20 stairs several times a day. So when I get home, the last thing on my mind is working my sore leg muscles. Maybe the stairs will be good for me .... ?
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