F.U.S.

I don't know, turn my back for a second and everything goes to wrack and ruin - Cheerful LBTEPA here, back to take over from that tiresome Sooky La-la LBTEPA. Many, many thanks for your encouraging words to her. She has been sent out the back with a can of HTFU and a spoon.
F.U.S. does not stand for F#$% U, Spousal unit (although it could, given that we have just had a fearful blue - loyalty prevents me from divulging the details; we have sorted it out now).
It stands for my plan for this weekend's triathlon:

Finish,
Upright and
Smiling.

One of my Best Plans Ever, I think! There's a much longer post about why I am doing this and how I talked myself out of talking myself out of it during my run this morning - OMG how good do your legs feel at the end of tapering? Why wasn't I told? - swirling around in my head, but I must continue flinging random articles into bags so I can pick Noddie up and head east before the long weekend traffic goes nuts. I do have a list, but when I tipped everything out of the too-small bag into the far-too-large bag I found seven tee-shirts. Tizzy, anyone?

More anon, lovelies :)