June 2010


I did it.  I stuck to my word and went for a run yesterday.  And are you ready for this?  I went for a run today, too.  Holy shit, I’m actually doing something consistently.  Who am I?  I’m scared.

I suppose saying I went for a “run” is the wrong terminology.  It was more like I went sprinting out of the gate, hit block 3, walked for 6 blocks, ran a few more, walked a couple, passed a few people mowing their lawn, and then walked it on home. 

This running stuff is tough, ya’ll!  I know I need to start slow and build my endurance, but out of about 22 blocks (1 way uphill, 1 way slightly down), I probably run about 6 or 7 of those blocks.  My goal by the end of this summer is to run the whole thing without stopping.  I could care less about speed.  I’m more concerned with stamina.  Enough that I can actually run on a busy street sidewalk, because right now I stick to the neighborhoods.  For fear drivers are judging my “run on-run off” practice.  Ooo, so Miyagi!

Anyway, here’s a few things I’ve learned since I started running, because a girl can run for 2 days and get all expert on your ass!

1.) Side aches are a bitch.  Suggestions please!

2.) Mowing your lawn in 80 degree weather looks like it burns a lot of calories.  Maybe I should start doing that instead of running.  Although if you gave me a lawnmower, I probably wouldn’t know how to turn it on.  And if I finally got it going, I might feel like mowing little designs in your yard.  You’ve been warned.  Unless you like smiley faces.

3.) It’s really hard not to think of the M&M cookies sitting on your counter at home waiting for your return.  It’s also hard not to convince yourself that they should be your reward for exercising.

4.) Where do you put your keys?  Really?  And fanny packs are not an option.  So don’t go there.

5.) I wish I had a beefcake trainer who could run ahead of me.  Maybe dangling a hotdog on a string or something.  That might make this whole thing a little easier. 

Keep up those suggestions because I’m bound and determined to tone up before Tony and I have to photograph our Save The Date cards.  We have the best idea EVER!  But it involves swimsuits.  You’ll just have to wait and see!

I’m going to start  a new something-er-other for Tuesday blog posts.  Partly to help you get to know me and partly to help me get to know YOU!  So we’ll give this a shot.  Every Tuesday I’ll post a question.  Then I’ll answer it (imagine how that works!).  And then I’d love for you all to post your own answers in the comments.  Or feel free to even carry the question over to your own blogs if the mood moves you.  Am I being too bossy?  I tend to.

Anyhow, let’s start this off with a bang.  Sometimes I’ll pull questions from the internet.  Sometimes from my own brainy little brain.  If you have questions you’d love to ask, feel free to post those in the comments as well.  I’ll try to use that question for the next week.

Ok, this is getting too complicated.  I always over-explain. 

Here goes.

dundundundundundun (that’s the drumroll, duh!)

And the kick-off question is:

What Vegetable Do You Most Resemble?

Ok, I have to be honest.  I picked this question from a random website because it made me laugh.  Because, really?  Could a question be any dumber?  But it’s kind of cute in its “dumb-ness.”  Like how those hairless cats are kind of cute because they’re so incredibly awkward looking.  So it’s the question for the week.

I’m a little confused by it, though.  I’m not sure if the questioner meant for the answer to be literal…because then I might answer broccoli, because I have crazy, curly hair that often results in me looking a little ragamuffin-isk.  And I suppose broccoli would be closest to that.  Maybe eggplant because I have a long face.  And I think I’ll stop here because I’m really making myself out to be pretty attractive.

If I had to answer by personality only…I wouldn’t be sure because hotdogs aren’t vegetables.  Kidding!  So kidding! (Really I am, but all of a sudden it’s dawned on me what I’m having for dinner, thankyouverymuch question asker!) 

Based on my half-assed attempt to personify vegetables, I suppose I’d most likely resemble a tomato.  They’re generally liked, easily accessible (I mean that in the way that I’m friendly and open, not that I’m cheap and prostitute-y, gawd!)  They have a thousand different varieties, much like my moods.  They also tend to get mushy.  And that’s also like me, especially when it comes to babies or puppies.  Or babies holding puppies. 

Ok, your turn.  I’m handing over the mic.  What vegetable do you most resemble?  Don’t be shy!

Let me let you all in on a little secret.  It’s a secret from the A-cup world.  The rare species of women that don’t have much of a bosom.  Are you ready for it?  It’s big.

We feel a special affinity for our…rumpuses.  (That’s the plural version of rumpus for all of you who are looking at me sideways).

Anyhow, I’ve always been proud of my little booty because while other women could buy beautiful, lacy bras from Victoria’s Secret, I could dress up my ba-dunk-a-dunk in a tight pair of jeans and still feel like a hot little ticket.  Forget the “boob men”…I got the market cornered on the “butt guys.” 

Ok, this is getting a little weird.

The whole point of this post is to inform you that I’m going to attempt to start running.  How does this apply to T & A?  Well, I was checking out my bottom in the mirror the other day and realized…it’s looking a little…saggy.  And is that a dimple?  Gah!

Winter hasn’t been kind this year.  The sugar industry hasn’t either.  Well played, Gluttony, well played.

So I decided that I need to start running.  Why running?  Because my whole damn extended family is part human-part roadrunners and I’ve been subjected to too many Facebook statuses that look like the following: “So and so just ran 7 miles in under 3 minutes.  Feeling fantastic!” 

I read these statuses while sitting in the butt grove of my couch, feeling slightly guilty that I’m eating chocolate chip cookies for dinner (I said slightly!)  And as I sit there, I start to wonder what the “deal” is behind all this running biz-nass.

I’ve never been much of a runner.  I get terribly winded and turn bright red within the first 30 seconds so I’ve always been more apt to choose the elliptical machine.  Or do pilates.  And back in the day I was even known to hit up my man Richard Simmons.  Who doesn’t like to sweat it out to the oldies?  And I trust you all to keep that last one a secret because…Hello!  Embarrassing!  I know!

Anyway, these runners have piqued my interest.  It’s been so long since I’ve gone for a jog that I figure maybe today is the day.  So wish me luck.  And if you drive by and see me gasping for air on the sidewalk like a guppy, please scrape me off and place me back on the couch – STAT!

Tony’s grandfather passed away today.  A man who was as tall as a bear, with a heart the same size.  He was known for his gigantic hugs and his contagious grin.  A man everyone affectionately referred to as “Pa.”  It’s been a sad weekend, as we knew he was near the end. 

I know how broken Tony’s heart has been since we found out he was sick just a few weeks ago.  Today has been especially hard for him.  Please keep him and his family in your thoughts.

Ha!  I had to share this with you all because I got quite the kick out it today.  After posting my last entry about my “exciting life,” which was actually very tongue-in-cheek as I’m sure you all guessed because I like to think of my readers as intelligent creatures (you’re welcome), I checked my stats and saw that someone found my entry because they Googled “How to Lead an Exciting Life.”

If that was you, I am in no way laughing at your Google query.  If you had access to my Google query history, you would probably laugh too.(You know I just went up to my little Google box and checked my search history right now, right?  And you also know I’m not ashamed to admit that I just deleted it all because…eek! Don’t look!)  Anyway, back to my point. 

I am not laughing at you because of your search.  In fact, I’m quite impressed by your ability to take life by the reigns.  Make that life interesting, kiddo!  I’m more amused by the fact that your search led you to yesterday’s post.  Because it’s more like the handbook regarding what NOT to do in order to have an interesting life.  So if that was you – I am deeply apologetic.  I didn’t mean to lure you in with a snazzy title and then scar you for life against the working world. 

I think I may need to borrow your search query in order to have an actual life to write about on this blog.  I knew there was a lesson in all this.

I don’t know how some bloggers update everyday.  It secretly makes me feel like my life is a sad sack of sorry compared to them.  Here is my daily schedule.  Wash, rinse, repeat.

7:31 a.m.: Roll out of bed.  This, of course, makes it sound like I’m rolling out, full of unbridled enthusiasm for the coming day.  I assure you, I am not.  It’s more like rolling out after 2 alarm clocks and 10 snooze button presses.  Think I’m kidding?  I also am not.

7:58 a.m.: I finally get out of the shower.  I take long showers. 

7:59 a.m.: Get that “oh shit, curse on your long showers, lady!” feeling because I now have 10 minutes to pick out my outfit, put on my makeup and do my hair.  You realize now why I tend to eat out for lunch.

8:33 a.m.: Sign into work.  Hope my boss doesn’t notice I’m 3 minutes late.

8:40 a.m.: Listen to my voicemails.  Remember why I love email over phone messages.

9:20 a.m.: Probably about the time I deal with my first confused customer.

10:00 a.m.: Run to the post office.  Sweet, glorious freedom!

11:00 a.m.: Start to wonder if time is moving backwards.  Oh.  It’s not.

12:30 p.m.: Lunch.  Sweet, glorious freedom times two!

1:45 p.m.:  Ok, seriously, time really is moving backwards.

4:00 p.m.: So close to the end.  Debate whether I should start a new project or try to look busy for the last 30 minutes.  Guess which option normally wins?

4:30 p.m.: Sweet, glorious freedom cubed!

5:30 p.m.: Check my email, eat some candy, think about dinner, and tell myself that I’m not going to fall asleep on the couch, damnit.

7:30 p.m.: Wake up on the couch, stare confused at the clock, and then process my epic failure of avoiding a nap.

7:31 p.m.: Think about hitting the gym.

7:32 p.m.: Laugh at the ridiculousness of that last thought.  Promise self it’ll happen tomorrow.

9:30 p.m.: Have a well-rounded meal of Honey Bunches of Oats cereal for dinner.

Midnight: Time for bed.  Stare at clock, all the while damning the early evening nap.

I need a vacation.  Or at least a few extra trips to the post office throughout the day.

I went back to the bridal shop with my future Mother-in-law today.  After mulling it over for a week I decided I wasn’t going to be satisfied until I tried the dress on again and made an appointment with the original consultant I worked with.  I wanted her to appease my apprehension and go over the dress in detail, pointing out how alterations can fix this and that…and pretty much just tell me I’m being a fretful little ninny.  Because apparently now I’m posing an English accent on my bridal salon consultant, who, in fact, was not British.

I invited my Mother-in-law along because I wanted her to see my dress and because I wanted her to feel included in the whole wedding process.  And also because she’s a very assertive woman who could help me speak up.

We were going to go for the whole “good cop, bad cop” thing.  But, in actuality, I have trouble even playing the role of good cop.  I’m more of the “oh heck, I totally believe you’re innocent, DNA what?” cop.  Which makes me a friendly person.  But also a really bad cop.

(Gracious cop?  Pleasant cop?  Sociable cop?  Someone’s been using her Word Thesaurus?)

Anyhow, the lady who helped me was more than willing to stand with me for an hour, going over every little detail of the dress, assuring me where it can be taken out and where I’ll actually need it taken in.  She had all kinds of suggestions on how to fix any little thing that seemed out of place to my critical eye.  Basically, how to tweak it to my body.

I can’t even begin to tell you how much better I feel about the entire thing.  I started to feel gorgeous in the dress again.  Like it was made for me again.

So we didn’t need to break out “bad cop.”  And I’m glad about that.  Because my “bad cop” might have offered to pay her house mortgage or something.  I’ll need to work on “bad cop.”

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