I'm an expert in stupid

In case you were wondering, I am. If it's stupid, there's a good chance that I've done it.

Because I enjoy torture, I ran a track workout this morning, and, well, yeah, I hurt myself. AGAIN.


In my mind, I figured, "Hey, muscle memory, if the last run I do is super fast, I'll be fast this weekend". What my body heard was "I hate you and I will kill you". Or something similar.


I'm limping around the office, pretending I'm fine and hoping that the power of positive thinking will magically heal my seriously aggravated IT band. ::finges crossed::


If not, it may be a game day decision about what to do. Never thought I'd say that. Crrrraaaappp.


Please send fairy dust and magic my way. Since I'm too much of an idiot to be smart.


Oh, and just for kicks, does this picture not crack you up? My cougar grandma and my "grandpa". Christmas, 1980. Love it!
(I have to post something funny to distract me from the mind numbing pain I'm currently in)

(No, I look nothing like my dad's side of the family. As you've seen, I'm a mini version of my mama)

A New Addiction

Because Anthro, SAMCRO, Bones, Target and Diet Coke just aren't enough!

I don't remember how exactly I got hooked on the site ModCloth, but, it's totally become my crack as of late.

I adore vintage styles and classic fits. I'm short and semi curvy (I have hips. Bleh) thus, I prefer skirts and dresses to pants. I could live in dresses all year. My closet is jam packed with frilly frocks and such. And I'm only adding to the collection.

I need an intervention.

This beauty arrived yesterday (does this not look like the perfect 1940s dress? I die!):

And I'm obsessed with this and guess that it will be coming home with me very soon:

I really want this one, but, I cannot justify the price. Perhaps it will be on my birthday/Christmas wish list?

Sigh.

What are you addicted to? What are you favorite clothing styles?

I'm an idiot. (pretend this is brand new information)

(this was going to be my deja vu post, but, them I rambled about my super classy family and really, how can we lump running in with my great great grandma turning tricks to pay for our family farm?)

So, I’ve been a total slacker this training cycle for Marine Corps Marathon. But, it honestly it’s not all my fault. How can I run at 5AM when I have to be at work at 5AM? My point, exactly. So, I don’t. And then I get home at 6PM and promptly fall asleep on the sofa watching Bones. I know, tres chic, yes? Yes.

Anyways. So, I missed my first 20 miler because I was so tired and my ankle was touchy and I spent an awesome night with some girlfriends—and I even carbloaded on pizza. But, I felt better after my 12 hours of sleep and said “I’ll do better next week!”. Which I totally did. And then, I was going to do better the next week too—which I totally didn’t. Because I went on a date night with my awesome BFF and then I was like “eh”. And slept in. Lamesauce.

So, idiot over here was all “No worries, I’ll just run 20 miles this weekend with my DRC friends on Saturday since I have to work on Sunday. I won’t taper. No problem.”

And then the Universe was all “Are you mocking me? Because if you are, I will smack you.”

And I got smacked.

At mile 15.

By a pain so severe I thought I was going to pass out or puke, or both. So bad that telling myself I could run through it wasn’t even possible. I was getting passed by power walkers (I don’t want to talk about it). The one time I decide not to take my phone, I’m stranded a good 3 miles from my car and having to walk it in. Ohhhh the rage. No words.

Driving hurt. Sitting hurt. Stretching hurt. Standing? Yep, that hurt too. I had to have the husband help me out of the car.

I couldn’t believe I had been that stupid. That I had temped fate in such a manner. I was 100% totally reliving the injury that plagued me last summer and fall. Not happy.

Messed around on the foam roller. Iced. Stretch. Foam roll. Massage. Rinse, repeat.

Didn’t run yesterday.

Hot bath, foam roll, ice, foam roll. Repeat.

Didn’t run this morning—but! But! That’s because I’ve learned my lesson and don’t want to tempt fate. I feel better today! It hardly hurts. I think I might be OK.

There was some serious devistation when I thought I couldn’t even run the marathon this weekend, and I didn’t tell anyone I’d gotten hurt because I didn’t want the lecture about attempting a 20 miler one week out. But! :knocks on wood: I think I might be OK. As long as I take it easy.

And have no disillusions of a PR. Which I don’t.

Marathon Number Five, here I come!

Deja Voodo

Elephant in the room, elephant in the room, elephant in the room: ALCS CHAMPS TEXAS RANGERS!!

Ah! My little brain can hardly comprehend the awesome that is this situation. Now, I’m not a die hard baseball fan or anything, but, I do like it—I’ve liked the Rangers since I moved here seven years ago.

And now my boys are going to The World Series! Or, should I say, The World Series is coming to my boys! Holy heck. All kinds of awesome. Antlers Up! Go Rangers! (and it doesn’t hurt that Josh Hamilton is just such a cutie pie. Ha!)

Moving on.

Couple of things:

1. My aunt was here this weekend, which meant that I learned a whole heck of a lot about my family. Such as:

a. My dad used to date a woman who was um, shall we say, into not wearing the clothing so much. Yeah. This probably explains why my dad married my super conservative mother and then my even more conservative stepmom.

b. My grandparents had an “open relationship”. As in, my grandma had a boyfriend. FOR SEVERAL YEARS. Of course my grandparents later divorced.

c. My grandpa and his live in girlfriend of 25+ years (after he and my grandma divorced) was his high school sweetheart and the first girl he ever kissed. If that just isn’t the cutest thing ever, I just don’t know what is.

d. My great great grandma had a career path similar to Julia Roberts a la Pretty Woman. In the middle of nowhere, Iowa. I cannot stop laughing about this.

e. Five years after my grandparents divorced, my grandma met her future live in boyfriend of 25+ years at a bar in what is now Skid Row. She was 15 years older than him (I always knew that). Awesome.

f. My grandparents had to hide their marriage, as Iowa school teachers weren't allowed to be married. I guess the move to Southern California really changed my grandparents!

g.How I didn’t end up barefoot and pregnant, married to Larry the Cable Guy at 18, I will never know. Just, judging my family history and all.

(neither of my grandparents ever married their "live in boyfriend/girlfriends", but, they became family to us kids. I adored my "grandma Wilma" and "grandpa Harry" even though they weren't ever married to my grandparents)

2. Whew. I’m exhausted. I don't have the energy to talk about how I got up way too early, ran way too far and totally hurt myself so badly I can barely walk, just like I did last year (hence the title of this post). We can talk about that tomorrow, k? K.

Why couldn’t I be from a line or nobility or something? I mean seriously.

No pictures, use your imagination

So, I told my sweet friend, miss Polka Dots & Protein Bars that I would write this post since she herself is living in a week long adventure of online dating. Enjoy the perils of my life. I can’t make this up. I’m not that smart/creative.

In college, I decided to do an online dating thing. I won’t tell you which website or whatever I used, because, well, that doesn’t really matter. Anyways. I filled out my little profile and can't really remember what I said about myself (after all, this was nearly a decade ago. Good Lord, I’m old), but, I remember my user name was CaliforniaCrewGirl. I was on the crew team and from California. Done.

So, blah, blah, I get an email fairly soon and am flattered because, well, you know, he seemed normal. We have witty banter back and forth for a few emails and I’m like “hey, this guy seems nice”. So, we decide we should chat on the phone sometime. I give him my number.

Not two minutes pass and my phone is ringing. It’s internet boy. (Sidenote: While I hate dating “games” being so damn eager is kind of scary too.)

Y’all. Y’all. Y’all. I am not one to judge an accent or anything like that, cause I do love me a sweet Southern drawl, but, he was so backwoods, I could hardly understand a word he was saying. Um?

We attempt to chat. It’s awkward. He tells me that he wants a wife. Um. I’m 18. He tells me he only wears Wranglers. That he intends to wear them on his wedding day. But, at least then he would wear black ones. Because that makes it classier. Obviously.

And that his mama would have to approve of me before we could go on a date.
Suuuuuure.

We email and chat a few more times. His mother approves of me. (WHY ON EARTH DID I EVEN PUT UP WITH THIS? Yes, all caps is necessary) (I sound really desperate, don't I?)

We decide to go on a “date”. Which, is code for, it’s finals week and thank goodness I have that as an excuse so let’s just grab apps somewhere.

Which translates to the On The Border off I-30 by Six Flags.

My hell.

So, I’ve seen his picture and he’s cute. Not George Clooney, but, I’m no Cameron Diaz, so, it’s cool.

Obviously, I wasn’t expecting George Clooney to show up, but, I wasn’t expecting Larry the Cable Guy either.

Oh Lordy. True story.

And it's wildly awkward. Like, we're fine in emails and online and even sorta fine on the phone, but, jeezus? In person. Notsomuch. How did this witty cowboy man turn into Larry the Cable Guy?

Oh, and then, when we lost touch for a few weeks because you know, my mom died, he was upset that I didn’t make time for him. Um. My mom died. I was a touch busy. And we weren’t like dating-dating. He.wigged.out. Like, was seriously upset with me. Um? No. Obviously, that was end of whatever it was.

Hopefully, he's found a wife by now.

But, it's doubtful.

Dear Brain: Stop it. Now.

Scene: Me being a responsible little elf and trying to clean up the house and get things in order before my aunt comes to visit this weekend. And get to bed at a reasonable time so I can get up and kick ass at my track workout the following morning.

8:15PM: Take an Advil PM so that I will be able to fall asleep as my knee has been hurting lately. Putz around the house moving candles and pictures while keeping entertained by watching Bones in the background for a little bit.

8:45PM: Decide I'm feeling a little sleepy and decide to capitalize on that and get ready for bed (yes, I go to bed early).

9:05PM: All snug in bed with a beagle and am getting close to falling asleep. Success!

9:30PM: Still awake. Still awake. Dear brain, please turn off.

10:07PM: Go to sleep! Go to sleep! You have to wake up in like 6 hours. Go to sleep. The house will still be messy and you'll still hate the way the guest bedroom looks in the morning. It's not like you can clean right now. Or can you?

10:09PM: Ponder getting up, cleaning, rearranging and basically pulling an all-nighter. What? It worked it college, surely it would work now.

10:11PM: No, I'll just go to sleep. Damn. I should take another Advil PM. But, is that too much? Will I be able to wake up? Hmm.. I should have gotten that melatonin stuff our receptionist told me about. Also? I never thought I'd be the person worrying about sleeping meds. If I was on Twitter right now, I would use a hashtag for this as #I'mold (I'm old. Not I mold. Obviously).

11:15PM: Sigh. I'm over this.

1:39AM: Seriously?!?

3:55AM: Oh my jeeszus, the alarm goes off so soon. Please, just a few more minutes.

4:23AM: Alarm goes off. Oh hell no. Snooze.

And that my friends, is how I managed to miss yet another run because I am a damn insomniac these days.

Either that, or the taper is making me crazy.

Obviously, this results in Oreo cookies and Diet Coke for breakfast. Awesome.

Breakfast of champions, y'all. I hear this is how Ryan Hall starts his day too.

I cannot budget to save my life*

* at least at Target.

Also titled: "85% of my Paycheck Goes to Target and I don't Need Minted.com to Tell Me That" (true story)

And this is how yesterday played out:

I feel bad. I haven't sent Rach a package yet. Must fix this. Target trip after work. Hm. What does she need? ::pulls up email:: OK. Long sleeve shirts, leggings, socks--warm stuff. And foundation. Crap. I don't know what kind she wears. Solution? Call MIL. New mission? Find leggings since MIL wasn't able to find any--however, I have 4 Target stores within a 5 mile radius of mi casa, so, I will find leggings.

Tra la, la, Target is so fun. Tra la, la.

Gloves? Check. Warm leggings? Check (or, you know, yoga pants--whatever, she's getting them. Two pair!). Socks? OK. Well, what kind of socks? She said warm socks. So...Boot socks? Knee high or crew? How about both? Done.

Long sleeve tee shirts? Of course. Red shirt. Blue shirt. Black shirt. Green shirt. Done.

And it's cold up there, so, she'll need some lotion and chapstick and stuff. Naturally, I need new chapstick. Oh, and some travel sized hand sanitizer--she loves hand sanitizer. Weird, I know.

And gummi bears. And mascara--since I at least know the kind of mascara she uses. Anything else? Ohh! Fuzzy Halloween socks. Yes. Naturally.

And that my friends, is how I managed to kill more than $125 at Target last night.

But, you know what? I'd spend my entire paycheck on this chickadee if it was needed.

I love my sissypants more than shoes and would do anything for her. She's an amazing person and while I miss her like crazy, I am so grateful to her and her service each and every single day.

Sending her some warm clothes and "provisions" is the least I can do. (I'm also jonesing for Best Sister In Law Ever status, but, that's neither here nor there)

Happy Crazy Work Week and I'm Sick

Grrr. I am beyond less than thrilled right now. I missed my long long run on Sunday. I didn't leave my bed yesterday.

Hate.

But, in the upside of this hell is that I am being forced to do my 20 miler on Saturday with my DRC crazies--I haven't seen them since July. This is the true highlight of my week. Yep, that means no taper. I don't even care. I'm so under trained for Marine Corps it's not even funny.

I'm still determined to have a blast and enjoy those 26.2 miles through DC. I am beyond excited to spend a weekend in DC with my husband and rock the hell out of that race.

And because I can, here's a cute picture of me at the State Fair of Texas taken by bff. Those damn swings aren't to be messed with. We were walking around like drunks the rest of the night. We're both still leaning to the left. Also titled? We're Older Than We Care to Admit.

(Feel free to discuss how awesome my hair looks in the comments. Seriously.)

Memory Lane

(also titled "Our Scanner is Currently Working So We Must Strike While the Iron is Hot")

Remember the onesies that I obsess over (here and here)?

Well, I found a picture of them.
So, I guess I was falsifying the story when I called them onesies, because, they clearly aren't. They are little cape sweater things--and the bonnets? Oh the bonnets. My heart aches.

I have no idea which one is my grandma and which one is my great aunt, but, I don't care. I adore this picture.

While we're doing the Memory Lane thing, here are some more pictures for ya.

That's my momma and our dog in our backyard--gosh, probably sometime in the early 80s.

Me and my momma (in my blonde phase) on her wedding day--November 2, 2002. (don't I look exactly like her? I totally lucked out because my sister looks just like our dad. Yay for my mom having the dominant genes!)

My momma and her girls at my High School Graduation. Again--blonde phase and before I discovered a flat iron.

L-R we have Jenny, Malia, momma, me and Aubrey. Jenny spent every Christmas Eve with us for YEARS. Malia's dad basically adopted me and Aubrey's mom and mine were best friends. My mom considered them her girls too. We're family.

My mom had that photo in an 8x10 frame in her living room. She was such a good mom. I sent that photo to all the girls last night.

I've been scanning up a storm since our scanner is currently not on the fritz. Prepare to see much more where this came from!

Isn't modern technology fun?

Mi casa es su casa

Welcome! Grab a Diet Coke and get settled!

When we bought our home (::cough:: two years ago ::cough::), there were plenty of things we needed to deal with right away. Like the wallpaper. And the A&M/CSI splatter painting in the hallway. Other things we could let slide. Like the window coverings in the living room.

Nope, your eyes do not deceive you--those are, in fact, hippie beads. Like the ones you had in your dorm room freshman year. (note that while the previous owners had fancy furniture as seen above, they did not so much have taste--as evidenced by the wallpaper and splatter paint...I'll need to find those pictures)

So, we left them. Because, we couldn't figure out what to do. We didn't want real curtains to block the view of the backyard. We couldn't afford plantation shutters. We didn't want blinds. So, we just left it.

Then last spring, I got the brilliant idea to just take them down.

See? (also, yes, the windows are dirty, shut up) No one was really a fan of this. So, the beads went back up.
Until a few weeks ago when I'd had it up to here and decided once and for all--gauzy curtains it is.
Ta da!

So.much.better. Love.

Now, we just have to fix the pink sofas and creepy people on the mantle and we're set.

Lest you think I was being overly dramatic about the creepy people on my mantle and all.

Freaking out, freaking out, freaking out

Y'all.

Y'ALL.

Marine Corp Marathon is less than three weeks away.

Excuse me while I go pass out from a panic attack.

Be back soon.

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OK. I'm back. Still freaking out and all, but, back.

When did this happen? How is it October? How am I less than THREE WEEKS AWAY from marathon number five?

::crawls into fetal position and rocks self::

I demand that time stop now. NOW. Stop it! Stop! Also, if time stops, does that mean my wrinkles reverse? Cause that would be awesome.

Goodness. I am so overworked and undertrained that I'm sure marathon number five will be a fiery disaster. But, I rocked out a good solid 15 miles yesterday and have 22 on tap for next weekend (I just gagged), so, I CAN DO THIS. Right?

What can you do that you never thought was possible?

Pretty in Pink

So, y'all (OK, like one of you) requested a race recap about the race that I paced. And I'd love to provide you with a ton of details, but, honestly, I'm so stressed, overworked, tired and blah that I don't remember a ton. HA. Why isn't that surprising?

Suffice to say, I had a blast. It was tons of fun and I pretty much just want to pace races from here on out. No need to PR. I'm good, thanks. My next half is the week after Marine Corp and I got all excited about pacing that for a second and then was like "yeahhhh, not gonna happen. I'll be the last person to cross the finish line, for sure!". Anyways.

It was fun. I loved it. I'd do it again in a heartbeat. I haven't had a half marathon PR in a year and don't see it happening in the near future, but, I'm OK with that. I'm having fun with it. Well, as much fun as you can have running 13.1 miles and all.

Remind me why I do this again? What is sleep like? Because I have no idea.

Here's all of us in our pink and black finery. I agreed to wear bows with my monkey buns, having no idea how big they would be! HAHAHA. Cracks me up. It's like a hot pink halo!

Shannon and I ready to rock 2:30. It was kinda windy and our balloons totally popped at like mile 4. Oops.

Chillin' at the finish line after our breakfast burritos. Loved the medals! (seriously, does the hot pink halo not crack you up?! I'm dying!)

And that, my friends, was my first adventure into pacing. I would love, love, love to do it again.

I suggest that any of you runners find a way to give back to the races--either pace, volunteer, something! It's so worth it and you really get a taste of how much work goes into those events.

Happy Friday!

I'll be working at a 5k tomorrow morning and then run, run, runnin' on Sunday. Super exciting, yes? What are you doing?