Cupcake

Last week at the grocery store, I bought a box of chocolate fudge cake mix and some butter cream frosting.

No reason in particular - I just seem to find myself wanting/needing to make the occasional cupcake without the proper ingredients, so I figured while I was there, I should buy in preparation for the next wave of domesticity.

'Cause like my menstruation, you never know when it's going to hit.

However, turns out you can't keep a jar of butter cream frosting in the house of a recovering/oft-slipping sugar addict.

Cupcake mix got put safely in the cabinet, while the jar of frosting was opened, tested, and placed in the fridge butter shelf for the occasional sugar hit.

I would only take about two finger fulls at at time - enough to quench that sugar shake at the end of each evening - the one that usually causes me to eat three ice bars in a row, hence prohibiting me from buying them anymore (ice cream bars and chocolate chips - bought again, with the intention of putting them in brownies, but in reality putting them only in my belly straight from the bag).

My goodness - what is it with me and baking ingredients?

But like any addict, the finger-fulls were no longer cutting it after a while, and I wanted more.

Like a spoonful.

Or two. Maybe three.

I eventually got about halfway through the jar, and finally decided - throw it out. Seriously, I can't be working out for two hours a day, and then blow it all of hydrogenated oil that taste deliciously and sinfully like butter cream.

So out it went. Right in the garbage with my dignity.

But for as much as I love butter cream frosting, I don't love it more than this little piece of deliciousness:



He told my sister he had a lunch date.

With his imaginary friends, Fou Fou and Kenea.

Forget the frosting - THAT'S real sweetness.

Mish Mosh

Blood Sucker
I saw a grown ass man with a hickey at the gym today.



And by grown ass, I mean like 50.

Now, I’m no prude, but I always assumed that hickeys stopped being cool three weeks prior to ALWAYS.

Honestly, there is no workout THAT important that you have to risk public hickey humiliation to do.

I mean, grab a beer, hit the couch, and wait it out.

Because people like me are staring.

And judging.

Gross.


Dirty
Speaking of the gym, there seems to be a new trend.

Last year around this time, all the New Years Resolutioners who otherwise only pass by the gym on the way to the Olive Garden were sporting the denim-jeans-as-workout-attire trend.

Which makes sense, right? I mean, who doesn’t want to work up a good sweat in the ultra-unbreathable fabric of denim?

Feeling the burn as those soggy jeans hug the thighs like heavy-duty Seran Wrap.

Spectacular.

The year, however, seems to be the year of the Bare Feet.

Perhaps this is spawned by the newfound cult-forming book “Born to Run” (side note – I wouldn’t exactly know this, though, because truth be told it’s been on my Amazon.com wish list, but I’ve put myself on a book-buying diet this year until I make it through the stacks in my house - but people are raving).

And that’s cool – I get it. We athletes are all about the new – gadgets, training tools, concepts.

Trust me, I don’t embrace my “scrappy athlete” title willingly – if I weren’t so poor (don’t let the “doctor” title fool you – I still work in child welfare), I too would guinea-pig myself with all the new crap (including a Computrainer, hint, hint, wink, wink).

So I get the intrigue of trying out all the new stuff - or in this case, the new “concept.”

But if you are taking yourself to the gym – home of the nastiest, most evolved colonies of germs and disease, shouldn’t you at least try to get yourself a pair of those finger-shoes? You know, the ones that have a little space for each toe, as if to simulate bare feet?



Because seriously – if you want to run free as a 5-year-old along the lakefront path and risk glass, twigs, and pebbles – have at it. I support all sorts of athletic endeavors.

But if you want to go to my gym, put your sweaty, fungusy, hang-naily, toe-jammy, dirty ass feet all over the same equipment that I also use – well, now it’s personal.


I Stand Corrected
Completely un-athletic related, I saw a short clip of a recent American Idol tryout the other day. Apparently some guy has something to say about pants being on the ground, and I was the last one to know about it.

I admit my shock to discover that this show is still on the air.

I mean – really.

I know not ONE person that watches this crap.

So I thought to myself, “Self, surely there is nothing – not ONE single thing- in the world I care less about than American Idol.”

But then I found myself bombarded with “breaking” news that Simon Cowell was leaving the show. It was even on my local nightly news.



And – whoops! Whatdaya know?

There’s that one thing.

Reset

As noted in the previous post, I decided to make a list of resolutions.

Oh I know – you are probably saying, “I NEVER make resolutions. They’re so silly!”

Well, true - and honestly I have never been one to make them, either.

But like I said in a previous post, I like the idea of a “Reset” button.

See, my list is comprised of things that I already do, I just want to do BETTER.

And frankly, I need goals.

So with that said, here they are – my life but BETTER.

My Resolutions:

1. Tell it like it is.
Fuck it. I am so sick of sugar-coating people’s self-denials and excuses. I am no longer supporting their delusions. Have a long history of not ever following through on ANYTHING, but rather digging in your bag of excuses to soften the blow of your failure? Don’t come see me, because I will call you out like a nun in Catholic school. It’s not a complete erasing of my empathy, but rather this new behavioral change will be reserved for those among us who are chronic bullshitters. I mean, someone has to say it, and I suspect the rest of the people in your life aren’t, or we wouldn’t be in the position, now would we?


2. Train better.
Speaking of being called out on denials – I’m calling myself out on this one. Yeah, I work out regularly. But I need to concentrate on doing more than just lollygagging for an hour on the bike in front of my tv. If there’s no sweat, it never happened.

Towards that end, I have become quite a fan of hill interverals on the treadmill and will start speed intervals as well. I figure since I am not doing a ton of distance stuff this season (and by distance stuff I mean full Ironman), I might as well try to quicken myself up and perhaps lose a pound or two in the process.

And like I mentioned, fear IS my greatest motivation. Sure, there’s fear of having a shitty race season or never getting better/faster/stronger – watching your race results stagnant while all your peers fly by with their Kona-bound dreams. But more importantly, there’s fear of looking like John Goodman’s more attractive-yet-just-as-fat-twin in my race photos. If I have to look at another picture of myself in my tri-suit looking like something processed in the Oscar Meyer factory, or glimpse my ass in a three-way mirror looking like I was beat with a bag of nickels, I will scream.

No mas, mi amigos. No mas.

It’s a new day.


3. Eat Better.
This anti-denial thing is becoming a theme, isn’t it?

This resolution should really read: eat less candy and cupcakes, you fatass. See, turns out that I actually eat pretty well – veggies, lean meats, fruits by the truckload.

But my reality is that these are usually sandwiched between peanut MnM’s, Spice Gum Drops, and brownies. And this has GOT to change.

I mean, there is no point working my ass off at the gym, then turning around and mowing a box of Mike n Ikes, right? What a waste. So I try to ask myself as I go for another cookie: “How many miles is this going to cost you?” Sometimes it helps, and sometimes the licorice bits win out. But sometimes is better than no times, right? And me being a lazy person, I don’t want to run any more miles than necessary, you know?

So my goal here is this – set aside crap-food craving until Sunday. If I want to still rot my face out with a super-size box of Dots, then I can have at it. But my hope is that I won’t, or that I will get to Sunday, and only be able to eat a few.

Mmmmm…Dots……


4. Be a Better Person
Okay, let me explain this. If left to myself, I would sit in my house all day, get my work done, and then just read, read, read. It’s the hermit-tendencies in me, I admit. And I think my mom would tell you that I have always been that way – I like to be by myself.

But it doesn’t work really well when you have family, friends, and a husband all demanding attention.

So rather than give in to my own self desires of solitary confinement (I love you Andy Dufraine), I will make a better effort at getting out, participating in life, and sharing my time with others. You know - get busy living (there you are again, Andy!)

And like it.

That said, under this resolution is the promise to give back – Cheese and I have talked about this a bit already. See, in high school, I was all about community service – perhaps it was Jesuit upbringing – but I did just about everything, including a out-of-state trip to rural Kentucky to build houses.

But as an adult, like a lot of stuff, community service just fell by the wayside – what with my busy schedule of Facebook stalking, Biggest Loser-watching, movie attending, and general life observing/bitching.

Now granted, I give a lot of money (“a lot” being relative to my income and the Joe Biden) to various causes and charities. But I have been a bit more selfish with my time, and that’s not cool.

So in becoming a better person, I will actively give back my time to a valuable cause. It’s about darn time.


5. Be a more patient person.
Wow, did this little flaw bubble to the surface this year. Now, to be fair, most people say that they don’t see this side of me, but I know it’s there and it bothers me. See, I always sort of border on the fence between “good psychologist” and “bat-shit-rip-your-head-off-type-crazy” on any given day. But I really noticed I has taken a sharp dive to the latter side of the yard this year, particularly as work started to pile up. The more cases we got, the more cases I began to take on, and the more families I had to see face-to-face.

And let me tell you – nothing boils my blood more than a selfish, dysfunctional parent who justifies child abuse by their own hands, or exposing their child to daily domestic violence because they don’t think the kids actually sees it.

Some days, it’s all I can do not to haul off and punch these people in their smug-ass faces. I know - not good for a psychologist to say. But it’s one thing to neutrally assess, analyze and treat this dysfunction (which I do very well, thankyouverymuch), and a whole ‘nother to be a human being with feelings and empathy for the kids.

So my vow is to really try to improve this patience thing by any means possible. I have no plan, and might just have to wing it.

I know – good luck, right?

So that about sums up my personal goals for this year. Basic, and nothing to obscenely hard, like climb Mt. Everest – which, BTW, I would NEVER do because I effing hate this cold weather.

And “try new things” didn’t make the list this year anyways.

But perhaps, if reminded, I will do a mid-year check to see my progress.

Here’s to hoping there is some.

Call It An After-Christmas Miracle

Still working on the list of resolutions - procrastination what?

So in the meantime, here is my most current display of blatant narcissism (aside from the obvious blog that's all about me)...

A photo essay of....

Myself.

Of course it is.

These photos were taken from a 5k the day before my wedding (can you tell?) called the Lung Run. The run was to benefit lung cancer research, and since my dad died from it, I figured it was a nice way to have my dad present that weekend.

The visor was a gift from one of my favorite gals, Spie.

So enjoy me.

You're welcome.



What?!?! How did this little smooshie make it in here?! Okay, he can stay. Don't you just want to eat his face off? Yum.

Me and the Devs. Otherwise known as, "Boobs and Not."
MIL, Ellie, Smooshie, Devs, Me, Adrienne, new niece Kennedy, new aunt-in-law.



Must.Burn.Calories.For.Hawaii.Bikini.



Adrienne running me in....

"Haaaay bitches!"

Sweaty bride-to-be.

Obligatory sweaty armpit shot. Goodness, you'd think I ran 20 miles, not 3.1

Happy me.

Me and Ellie and Smooshie.

Gals.

Kennedy getting her nails done afterwards.

And that's it for now. Hopefully that Resolution post will be forthcoming....at some point...soon...in the future....

Hello Old Friend

In honor of the new year 2010, I decided to break from my usually Facebook stalking and write a sinkin’ post.

No way does it have anything to do with the barrage of emails and texts from family members wondering about the lack of posting.

Nothing at all.

Or you, Angie F.

Naw, I kid, I kid – I need a little accountability when it comes to this thing nowadays, and I appreciate the "where in the world are you?" check-ins.

It's just that most of the time, I just don’t feel I have a ton to say anymore.

Well, at least not race/training wise - I'm fat and out of shape. That sums it up.

However, in regards to all stuff local/world/political, I usually have a mindful of stuff, espeically with the nonstop news/reading of the last few months.

But given the firestorm of last year, I haven't quite recovered from bashing and hence am keeping most of my thoughts in that regard to after-dinner conversations.

Interestingly, taking those topics off the table for this blog has been a hard decision to make too - after all, this is my blog, I should be able to say anything I want, no?

But there's too much emotion involved on both sides, and my thoughts were being massively misinterpreted all the time. I just got tired of having to justify my opinion, and later read comments by other people about me on other sites (yeah, I read those)that it just wasn't worth the anger and frustration.

Wait, hang on – I gotta poop.

Hey, it’s early morning (for me) and the coffee’s kicking in – give me a break.

…………..

……*flush*……..

Okay, I’m back.

Where was I?

Poop.

Right.

Quick relate side note here - I’ve developed this new (to me) habit of the bathroom.

I read in there now.

I know it’s not that weird because a lot of people do, but for me it is.

See, as someone who drinks a ton of water and already spends an inordinate amount of time in the bathroom, I never quite understood the willful spending of additional minutes browsing some random magazine while trying to pinch one off.

I am generally a wait-til-the-very-last-second-it-falls-out-then-sprint-to-the-bathroom-and-drop-it-flush-wash-and-leave kinda gal.

But two things happened over the holidays to change all of this:

1. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, I had at least four airplane trips, and hence lots of constipation, thus requiring me to spend extra time in the loo working for the pay-off.

2. I found both a Runner’s World and a Triathlete magazine I got at least two months back that I must have (gasp!) thrown into my nightstand reading pile and forgot about. Seeing as how the absolutely MUST get read, I decided I would pass my excruciating painful waste of minutes crapping by reading them.

And voila! A new habit is born.

So bowel movements aside, let’s give a run down of the last month since my absence:

.
.
.
Umm..
.
.
Work…..
.
.
Cheese’s recovering…
.
.
Two Christmas’s in Kansas…….
.
.
.
Yup, that about sums it up.

Can you see why I haven’t posted?

Basically between work, Cheese's arm, more work, and the holidays, I haven’t really had a ton to say. Life just…is.

Once I get my act together I am going to come up with a list of resolutions, though.

I used to not make any, and really I still don’t, but this year for some reason, I really like the idea of the “Reset” button. It’s been a good year in many respects (what with getting married and all), but I have also let some things slide, so I like the idea of kick starting some newer/better habits, you know?

So sit tight, and I promise I will power off that list in the next 24 hours.

And most likely from the bathroom.