Fight or Flight

A few weeks ago Mike and I had to go downtown at 2 in the morning to help a friend with a flat tire.

(Because we're the best friends ever.)

We decided to take the dogs with us because we're also the best parents ever.

So while Mike was helping with the tire, I took the dogs out of the car so that they could roll around in the grass because rolling in the grass is apparently the best activity ever when you're a dog.

At one point I looked up and saw a deer running down the sidewalk. It was majestic and beautiful and then it turned and started to run (gallop?) right at me.

The deer was at least 6 feet tall and had fangs and foam coming from it's mouth.

(Mike tells me it was cute and little and possibly even a baby but I'm thinking he's just blocked the horrible image from his mind.)

The smart, reasonable part of my brain knew that this deer was way more scared of me and my two barking dogs than I was of it.

The other part of my brain, the part that thinks cute cuddly kittens are going to rip my throat out, was screaming THIS IS HOW YOU ARE GOING TO DIE, ALLY.

(I think I should point out that I had just seen this presentation at Ignite Boulder. Check out the whole video, but particularly the part at 2:08.)

(Thanks a lot, Josh.)

So I screamed. And Bonnie barked. And Hannah LUNGED FOR THE GOD DAMN DEER because she's cute but not exactly the smartest canine. And the deer stopped and stared because apparently that whole "deer in headlights" thing also applies to "deer being barked at while girl screams profanities".

So there I was, at 2 AM, trying to drag 100-plus pounds of dog away from Bambi on Steroids, screaming something eloquent like "HOLY-FUCKING-SHIT-MIKE-GET-IT-GET-IT-GET-IT."

He just stood there, yelled at me to run, and then laughed his ass off.

Really, Mike? If I have to get the spiders out of our house because you're busy hiding in the other room, then I think it's only fair that you take a more active role when I'm being run down by a predator.

Is that too much to ask?

(PS: I just Googled "are deer predators?" and all that came up were articles about the predators OF deer which totally isn't what I asked, Google. Apparently deer are pretty much at the bottom of the food chain and they just eat a whole lot of grass, BUT some deer consume meat when it's available. So really? I feel confident in saying that Bonnie, Hannah and I could have been eaten that night.)

(PPS: Mike tried to tell me that there are so many "deaths caused by deer" because of traffic accidents that happen when deer are in the road. Yeah, nice try buddy. You're just trying to explain why you didn't rescue us. I'd like to see how many of those deaths were caused because the victim was MAULED and then EATEN.)

(PPPS: OHMIGOD, don't Google "how many people are mauled by deer?".)

(PPPPS: And the results from searching "how many people are eaten by deer?" are really disappointing.)

Free Falling

The Scene: the bus station in Denver, on our way to the bars to celebrate Mike and Mark's birthday.

I think to myself: if I continue to button up my coat while we climb these stairs I'm going to fall.

Then I fall.

Hard.

On my knee.

In front of a large group of people waiting to get on the bus for Boulder.

And, because the physical pain and the humiliation is causing me to get dizzy and nauseous, I PANIC, because I'm awesome like that.

When we finally get me off of the damn death stairs and get up to street level we notice that our connecting bus is waiting on the street. Mike tells me to run and I sweetly say "are you fucking kidding me?" so he tells me to hobble instead and starts to drag me to the bus. I take a seat and realize that I'm shaking uncontrollably. I take out my trail mix (which I have in my bag because I'm a child and require snacks when I leave my house), and begin to eat.

Me: Shit, there's bus station floor all over my hands!

Mike: Wipe them on your pants.

Me: There's bus station floor all over my pants!

Mike: I can't take you anywhere.

So I have a busted knee AND I probably have some sort of horrible bacterial infection from eating contaminated trail mix.

Jump to 5 days later:

The Scene: walking the dogs down my street.

I think to myself: there's a guy pushing a little girl on a Big Wheel across the street, so I have to stay on this side, because Hannah hates Big Wheel bikes. I'll just walk up half a block and then cut across the street, then home! Thank god because I have to pee.

So I rush up half a block, check over my right shoulder to make sure the Evil Big Wheel with the Evil Child with Evil Pigtails isn't near us... and I catch a glimpse of a guy walking behind us.

So I whip my head around because the last thing I need is for Bonnie somebody to go ape shit on some Evil Man walking near us and I then proceed to miss that all important step over the uneven concrete and as I begin to fall I say "You have GOT to be kidding me..."

So I jump up as fast as I can (because when you fall in public you get up super fast and act like nothing happened EVEN THOUGH YOU'RE BLEEDING FROM YOUR ELBOW) and I limped across the street and home.

So, if you're keeping track, that's me falling in public and hurting myself TWICE in less than a week. I have so many bruises and scabs that Mike says I look like a fifth grader. My mom says that I'm making up for the fact that I never fell or injured myself when I was a kid, and Mike thinks that I just need more agility training.

Public Service Announcement

The first (and only) time that I've gotten a cavity I was about nine. And I was ashamed. I thought that I had done something terrible; that I had messed up. I hid in my room and was afraid for my daddy to come home.

(I had issues.)

(I still have issues.)

Of course, my dad didn't care. He told me it was okay and it happens and no worries, we'd get it fixed and be better about taking care of my teeth.

Even though it made my shame dissipate a little, I still hated the feeling like I had screwed up.

Well, I felt that same tooth related shame this week. I decided to make an appointment for the dentist because I hadn't been in a while.

Or, you know, four years.

FOUR GOD DAMN YEARS.

Yeah... my dentist was not pleased. And neither were my gums.

My poor, poor gums.

Which leads me to the main part of this blog post:

YOU NEED TO FLOSS.

Seriously. Floss like a mother fucker.

Thankfully, my problems can all be reversed with floss, regular visits to my dentist (like, you know, NOT every four years), and brushing my teeth for the recommended two minutes.

And now I'm telling you to floss, because otherwise your dental hygienist will scrape your gums with an instrument that looks like it belongs in the arsenal of someone responsible for getting top secret information out of a very stubborn war criminal.

(And today my mouth was the war criminal and my poor gums didn't have any information to tell.)

So there. I've passed along my advice. Because I care.

(I also visited the eye doctor and was told that your actually not supposed to wear your contact lenses for 4 months at a time, because they're kind of supposed to be replaced every two weeks. Apparently that's a bad thing...)

(I think I need some sort of professional care... I obviously can't take care of myself.)

PS: You know who doesn't need to go to the dentist? Bonnie. And you know how she showed me that her teeth are totally strong and healthy? By using those teeth to bite through her gentle leader on her walk today.

Best of 09: Car Ride

December 19th: Car ride. What did you see? How did it smell? Did you eat anything as you drove there? Who were you with?

After my grandmother's memorial my family went to a gorgeous town in Southwest Colorado, Ridgway, to spread my grandparent's ashes.

I rode down with Mike and my dad in my dad's Prius, and the rest of the family piled into my mom's (totally kick-ass) RV.

(There were too many of us to all fit in the RV and I get carsick sitting in it while it's driving on a straightaway, let alone while it's driving over mountains.)

At one point we needed to call the RV.

My dad decided that rather than allowing me to call my brother, who was trapped in enjoying the RV with our whole, entire, extended family, he would use his trusty voice-activated hands-free phone thingy.

Dad: Phone (waiting)... Phone... PHONE!!

Condescending lady who talks from the voice-activated hands-free phone thingy (seriously, listen to the robot lady's voice next time you're in a car that talks to you... she is totally judging you): Phone. Please choose how you would like to place a call.

Dad: Name... Name... NAME!!

Lady from the voice-activated hands-free phone thingy who thinks she's better than us: Name. Please say the name of the person you would like to call.

Dad: AJ... AJ...

Me: Dad, why don't I just dial?

Dad: No, this is way more convenient. AYYYYY JAYYYYY.

Lady who has lost all respect for us (I don't really blame her) from the voice-activated hands-free phone thingy: Calling Annie.

Dad: Shit.

Best of 09: Conferences & Satan's Pop-Tart

I'm still here. Still strong. Still freezing (it's 12 freaking degrees here in Boulder).

Today's prompt for the Best of 2009 Blog Challenge:

December 6th: Workshop or Conference. Was there a conference or workshop that you attended that was especially beneficial? Where was it? What did you learn?

I think that it's kind of cool that I can actually answer this question in the affirmative. Obviously I had some "especially beneficial" experiences in Nashville and Chicago this year because those experiences have already been written about during this challenge.

I didn't necessarily learn a lot about blogging, per se. What I learned was a lot about myself. What I got were some great memories and even better friends.

Sounds pretty good to me.

In other news, I burned myself on a toaster pastry this morning. It was like the devil's pop-tart, it was so hot. I may not have any lasting scars or blisters on the outside, but my psyche is severely damaged.

I write about it because nobody that I've told today has really taken it seriously. I guess this is because I wasn't technically that hurt and still have full function of my hand, but it was horrific, nonetheless.

Thanks for listening. I knew y'all would understand.

It Must be the Shoes...

(I don't know why I'm still writing about Lady Gaga... apparently my life now revolves around the woman...)

Lady Gaga |MTV Music

Me: I have been working all day to learn the dance from the "Bad Romance" video, and I just can't do it!! You know, the dance she does during the chorus? In 5 inch heals? Maybe that's my problem: flat feet.

Mike: I'm so sorry.

Me: I know, right? I wouldn't think that it would be so hard, but I guess I'm just not cut out to be a Lady Gaga dancer...

Mike: Ally, stop it. You can be anything you want to be. You are amazing. Keep at it, and your dreams will come true.

Me: That's quite possibly the nicest thing you've ever said to me.

Mike: Well, I mean it. And once you learn the dance... you can teach it to me.

So THIS is a goal that he's behind 100 percent, but the whole Mariska Hargitay (MARISKA HARGITAY!!!) crime fighting turtle thing was just too "out there".

Sometimes, I just don't understand him.

One of *Those* Days

I had some very simple goals today.

Get up, get dressed, work at a coffee shop, and go grocery shopping for a nice dinner.

(We're having a nice dinner because JIM AND PAM ARE GETTING MARRIED TONIGHT!!)

(Yes, I realize that I'm cooking in celebration of the marriage between a fictional couple but ohmygodit'sJimandPam'swedding!!)

(Moving on.)

So I went to a coffee shop, unloaded my stuff, and went to buy a hot chocolate with... my forgotten wallet.

I forgot my god damn wallet.

So I re-packed my stuff and drove home and got my god damn wallet.

Then I went back and drank my hot chocolate and worked for a couple of hours, and then I went to the grocery store.

I walked in, grabbed my wallet, and grabbed my... non-existent grocery list.

I lost the god damn grocery list.

So I stood in the corner and tried to remember everything that I need for tonight.

Chicken? Check.

Veggies? Check.

Milk? Check.

Hot chocolate because wow it's cold outside? Check.

I got it all, came home and looked at the recipe and... got back in the car because I forgot a god damn key ingredient.

But, being the positive gal that I am, I decided it was a blessing because I also forgot to get my Count Chocula.

(Very important diet staple, people.)

So I went in, got the key ingredient for my celebration dinner of a fictional marriage and... they were out of Count Chocula.

The hell? It's OCTOBER, store! You know? The month of HALLOWEEN! It's the prime season for Vampire related chocolate-y-marshmallow-y goodness!

Seriously?!?!

So I got the Magically Delicious variety of dried marshmallow cereal instead...

(Maybe I'll pour some of that hot chocolate mix in there?)

Now I am home and in my comfy pants because, let's face it, it's where I'm obviously supposed to be.

PS: Bonnie was far too excited to see me in my comfy pants. She's just finished her 37th lap around the house all while thinking (I assume) "Mama's home! First she left! Then she came back! Then she left! Then she came back! Then she left! Then she came back! And now she's in comfy pants so she must be staying and it's so exciting because ohmygod I missed her!!" That, or she's high.

PPS: No, I don't get my dog high, you psycho. I'm just saying that it's a possibility since she's acting all crazy excited. If she is high it's totally not my fault... I blame the media.

PPPS: While driving to the store for the second time I realized that Bonnie's Halloween costume is a bee... which is sad. That's sorta like dressing a kid who's allergic to peanuts... as a peanut...

PPPPS: Yes, the dogs have Halloween costumes. Bonnie has a wildly inappropriate bee costume and Hannah has a flower costume... We. Are. Awesome.

The Importance of Good Goals

The other day Mike and I were watching Law and Order: Special Victims Unit and I decided to explain to Mike that one of my favorite names of all time is Mariska Hargitay.

Seriously, say it.

Mariska Hargitay.

Mariska Hargitay.

MARISKA HARGITAY!!

Don't you feel awesome?

I believe that now is the time to tell all of you (including an representatives of Ms. Hargitay, because they totally read my blog) that I do not have any unnatural feelings for or against the actual Mariska Hargitay.

Just her name.

Really, I'm not a stalker.

So I'm telling Mike that Mariska Hargitay is a great name and really we should get some sort of pet and name it Mariska Hargitay.

Like a goldfish... or a ferret... or a TURTLE.

Then I went through a whole scenario where we live in our house with Bonnie, Hannah, and Mariska Hargitay the Turtle. We spend our days lounging around, feeding Mariska Hargitay the Turtle lettuce leaves and telling Hannah to "PUT MARISKA HARGITAY DOWN!!"

Then I told Mike about how I've been reading a lot of blog posts about the importance of goals, and how one of them suggested writing your goals down as a statement with a date, rather than a desire with no set time. This means that instead of saying "I want to eat 37 hot dogs in an hour", you say "In July 2013 I have eaten 37 hot dogs in an hour".

SO, I told Mike that this seemed like a good idea, so I have a turtle named Mariska Hargitay in December 2011.

(Christmas present, anyone?)

Then Mike told me to shut up and watch the rest of the show.

Well, THEN I saw one of those police officers break down a door with one of those long door-breaker-downer-thingys (technical term) and decided that I wanted to do that. So I have a door-breaker-downer-thingy in 2o12.

THEN I started thinking that it would be REALLY cool if we had a turtle named Mariska Hargitay who fought crime. So I came up with a whole scenario where I would break down the doors and then send in Mariska Hargitay the Turtle and we would play the theme song from Law and Order and we would be FAMOUS.

THEN I started thinking that we probably shouldn't be fighting any really scary criminals because in all honesty Mariska Hargitay the Turtle and I wouldn't be the *fastest* of crime fighting teams.

(And that's not necessarily because Mariska Hargitay the Turtle would be the slower of the two of us.)

So I decided that we will need a niche in the crime fighting world. And that niche should be to go after people with unpaid parking tickets. But even those people have the potential to be scary. So we're going to go after people with unpaid parking tickets who are addicted to marijuana, because, really, what's more harmless to me and a turtle than stoners who don't pay their parking tickets.

(Why yes, I am a genius.)

So, in September of 2014 (I figure we need some time to train), Mariska Hargitay the Turtle and I are breaking down doors to fight criminals who have not paid their parking tickets and who are high.

There's really nothing more important than goals.

ATTACK

My mom and I went camping with a whole gaggle of girls this past weekend.

And by "camping" I mean we took two amazing RVs up to a lake less than an hour away where we ate cheese and crackers and had root beer floats and an amazing variety of alcoholic beverages... and I got to sleep in a feather bed.

(VERY important when it comes to sleeping in the great outdoors.)

Then, on the first night, while I was brushing my teeth, my mom decided to set up the coffee pot for the next morning.

Mom: Um, that's weird... wait... what?... OH MY GOD!!!

Me: What are you whining about?

Mom: ANTS! In the coffee pot!!

Me: Ants? *Walks over and expects a few ants* HOLY SHIT! *Sees a SWARM of ants pour from a large coffee pot in a flood of moving back GROSSNESS*

Mom: KILL THEM!

What followed was several minutes of my mother and me smashing insects and trying to drown them in the sink (with a very small supply of RV water).

Then, just to be sure, my mother decided to send an array of cleaning chemicals down the drain... a concoction of 409, Windex, and Easy Off Foaming Oven Cleaner seemed to do the trick.

(And caused my eyes to water and my throat to swell shut... but DIE ANTS DIE!!)

Then we cleared off the entire counter, my mom pointing at anything that moved and me spraying the offending creature with my pistol of 409 spray.

(All while screaming KILL THE FUCKERS and OhmygodOhmygod-we're-going-to-die.)

This is why we don't camp.

PS: At one point one of the little dogs went into another room (yes, this RV has ROOMS), and my mother promptly screamed that the ants had taken the dog away... THAT'S HOW MANY ANTS THERE WERE... (and how freaked out my mother was by this event). (Logic has never been her strong suit in a traumatic event.)

PPS: If you're part of some Ant-Loving organization and find the mass murder of these ants offensive... screw you.

PPPS: I am currently in Florida with my grandmother, mother, cousins and great aunts... the sentence "We're not dysfunctional, just funny" has been spoken... It's going to be a LOOOOONG, very humid week.

Devil Kitty

I have written about my lack of love for cats before.

Well, Lightning Legs went and got herself a little bitty kitty, so I had to re-evaluate my feelings about cats. I mean, a cat is now a part of the family, so I have to get over my fear that a cat will rip out my throat when I'm not looking.

(Or at least make my peace with it.)

So I went to the store and got a whole bunch of cat toys to appease the devil kitty.

(BTW, cats toys? Look exactly like sex toys. What the hell is up with that?)


I also made Marlin (that's the devil kitty's name) a card...

When we showed up at the house, I immediately ripped open all of the toys and scattered them across the floor.

(Keep the kitty distracted from your neck = number one rule in devil kitty survival.)

Soon, I had Marlin attacking everything in site (EXCEPT my vital organs), and he had no interest in me:


While I was trying to appease the devil kitty with my offering, Mike told me that I was doing pretty well for someone who hates cats.

I explained that regardless of how I feel about cats in general (DEVIL!!), Marlin is so freaking cute it hurts... I then compared the kitty to Dexter: he's adorable, and I love him, but at the end of the day, he's still a serial killer.

I'm very happy that Lightning Legs has Marlin... but I won't be sleeping over at her house anytime soon...

Obsessed

You might be a tad obsessed with Harry Potter if:

1) Your boyfriend asks you where you want to walk the dogs and you say, "We should take Hannah to the Quidditch field to run around".

2) You start calling your Golden Retriever "Hermione"... by accident. (True story.)

3) You break people into two different categories: "Friends" and "Slytherines".

4) You watch the last 20 minutes of "The X-Files: I Want to Believe" so that you won't miss a minute of the premier of "HBO's First Look: Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince".

5) You say "Lumos" whenever you flip the lights on.

If you are showing any or all of these symptoms...

You are awesome.

PS: There was no Fit or Fail post last week because my brother returned from a year abroad, and celebrating that was way more important that Fit or Fail.

PPS: There won't be a Fit or Fail post tomorrow as I have spent the last week SICK, therefore my workouts this past week have been loading the dishwasher and taking a shower. (Both of these activities resulted in a massive jump in my heart rate and a subsequent nap...)

Nicknames

The following conversation occurred completely randomly:

Mike: What do you think would be a good nickname for me?

Me: Thunder.

Mike: No... I'm thinking something cooler... like "Pickles".

Me: How is THAT cooler than "Thunder"?

Mike: Or another vegetable... like "Onion" or "Shallot".

Me: Nope... you're "Pickles", Pickles.

Mike: No, I changed my mind.

Me: Now, Pickles, I tried to give you a cool name like "Thunder" -

Mike: But I'm trying to find a serious name...

Me: So you picked "Pickles"?

Mike: It sounded better in my head.

Me: Fine, Pickles.

Mike: Stop calling me that.

I continued to call him Pickles and he almost left me... so yeah... don't try it on him... Pickles be pissed.

Selective Hearing

Over the last few days I've thought that there's something wrong with Bonnie.

She's been shaking her head, scratching her ears, and not coming in the house when I call her.

I cleaned out her ears, but none of the gunk that comes with ear infections was there.

I asked Mike if something was wrong with her.

She was sitting on the back of couch (where she is NOT allowed), staring outside, head perked up and eyes darting over the street, guarding her precious house.

"Bonnie?"

No response.

"Bonnie!"

No response.

Uh-oh. What do we do with a deaf dog? Can I teach her sign language? Are there classes for dogs like this?

Then a dog (three houses away) barked.

And Bonnie jumped off the back of the couch and outside, barking and growling the whole way.

She heard THAT just fine.

So yeah... she doesn't need sign language... she needs obedience lessons... damn dog.

Confessions of a Born-Again Omnivore

I've been a vegetarian for almost two years.

Sort of.

I still ate fish. And I adopted the Joey Tribbiani rule and ate meat when I was overseas.

(Greece is not Greece without a gyro.)

But recently I've been thinking a lot about why I wasn't eating meat. I've never been someone who thought that eating meat was wrong, or "not natural"... I absolutely think that eating meat is okay... but for a time I decided that it wasn't for me.

Lately, though, I realized that I wasn't eating meat because I didn't want to let OTHER people down (mostly my vegetarian friends and family members)... and that's not a good way to live.

So I've decided that at this point in my life, I'm eating meat. If I change my mind sometime in the future, so be it.

With all of that said, I have some advice for those of you who ever change from eating little to no meat to making it a more substantial part of your diet.

It's not the BEST idea to go to Vegas and visit a restaurant that has "all-you-can-eat-meat-on-skewers" a few days after you start eating it again...

Because even if you don't eat a TON of food... you will probably eat ENOUGH of the pork and grilled pineapple or things wrapped in bacon, and then you will regret it.

Especially when you have to walk a few miles back to your hotel.

And even though you'll try to make it back to your room, you'll probably end up throwing up in an alley next to some hotel (don't worry... it was one of the older, tacky ones, so it doesn't really matter) in front of a whole crowd of people...

It's one thing to throw up in Vegas because you had too much fun drinking at the bars... but throwing up because you ate too much pork? Embarrassing.

Really, really embarrassing.

And kind of sad.

So... if you ever make the change back to omnivore-y... take it slow.

I May be "Wrong" but my Logic is Decent...

Yesterday Mike and I dug a tree stump out of my dad's front yard.

(Okay... Mike dug the hole and got the huge tree stump out.

(I helped by reading to him... and then I helped fill the hole back up.)

(Because I am strong.)

(And because Mike was about to throw up from digging a hole for five hours.)

While I was shoveling the dirt back into the big hole I asked my dad what an ermine was.

He said it was a stoat.

I then asked what a stoat was.

He said it's a weasel.

Then I said that that must mean that the worm that I just saw wasn't an ermine because I was totally going to say "look at that gross ermine" and then I would have been wrong.

But I think that an ermine sounds more like it should be an insect or bug or something creepy-crawly and not this:
I would name THAT Richard. Not Ermine.

Then we started talking about building traps by digging holes and covering them up with hay so that someone falls into it.

Apparently my dad did this to his dad and even though my grandfather almost broke his neck my dad says that it was hilarious.

So I said that dad should have been a musketeer.

And dad asked why he would be a Mouseketeer.

And I said like Davy Crockett.

And Mike said "Frontiersman".

And I said that's what I meant.

(Except not really. Musketeer totally made sense in my head.)

And then Dad started singing the Davy Crockett song so I joined in and started screaming "Fe-fi-fidily-i-oh, fe-fi-fidily-i-ohohohoh" and Dad said that that's not the Davy Crockett song.

And I said I was pretty sure that good ol' Davy was in the kitchen with Dinah.

And Dad said no.

And then I asked if Davy at least played the banjo.

And Dad said no.

And then I decided that maybe Davy Crockett should have played the banjo in that kitchen with Dinah because if he had a hobby like playing the banjo then maybe he wouldn't have killed all of those animals for hats and instead joined a band.

So, overall... I was wrong a lot yesterday.

A Lawn Story

Yard work has never really been my forte.

When I was younger my dad told me to mow the lawn on the rider mower. I tried to tell him that this was a bad idea but he insisted that I was being over dramatic so I had to do it anyway.

It was terrifying but I did it and I even managed to make all of these pretty zigzag patterns in the grass.

(Driving one of those things in a straight line is HARD, y'all.)

Dad was not pleased and that was the last time that I was asked to use the rider mower.

(Not that I'm complaining. Being 15 and having one less chore is pretty much awesome.)

Now I have my own lawn to mow. And today was the first day this season that I did it.

Because of all of the rainy weather we've had over the past month our lawn was in desperate need of a shave.

The last thing Mike told me before he left for work was to not mow over the hose.

So I was a good yard worker and I went to move the hose before I forgot. But the hose was all covered in leaves and I was CONVINCED that there was a snake living in there. I got this vision of me reaching down for the hose and accidentally grabbing a snake and it freaked me out... so there's a patch around the hose of really long grass...

And then I ran over a ladybug. It was like slow motion where I was moving the lawn mower and I saw the ladybug RIGHT as I gave a big push and I was like "NOOOOOoooooooo" and I moved the mower and couldn't find the poor thing... I want to say that it flew away or burrowed into the ground, but I'm pretty sure that I'm actually a murderer and I just have to live with that.

Later I saw another ladybug flying and I was like "OH SHIT... what if that's the dead (murdered) ladybug's significant other... or a relative... or what if they were best friends who had a pact that if neither one of them had mated by the time they were 2 weeks old they'd give it a go together..."

So then I just felt depressed.

I'm pretty sure that's the only creature I killed, though.

I think...



The lawn looks nice now, and that's what's really important.

Except for that's kind of a lie because it doesn't actually look that good. For being such an organized person I have a very sporadic approach to mowing grass. I guess I'm just a fan of fun patterns because I have all of these swirly lines across my lawn and even though it looks pretty it's not exactly what I imagined.

I would mow a little for awhile and then turn around to see that I had missed a scalene triangle of grass without me actually noticing. So I had to go back and then I'd notice that some of the grass was still wet so it just went flat and wasn't actually cut... so it'll be interesting to see how that looks once it dries.

At one point I realized that I had given my lawn a mohawk (completely on accident). It was super punk rock but, let's face it, a mohawk is a tad cliche now, plus I don't think the landlord would appreciate it.

So now it sort of looks like Homer Simpson's head... mostly bald except for a few spots with about 3 stray hairs...

Awesome.

AND... the hoses were not run over.

Mission? Accomplished.

(PS: If you need a great read for the summer, Jen Lancaster's new book came out yesterday! Pretty In Plaid is sure to be full of laughs and pure awesomeness... AND it's about the 80s (aka The Decade Ally B Began to Exist and Therefore the Most Magical of All Decades... plus there was great music...) So go get it.)

Paranoia in Run-On Sentences

You know when your significant other is out working late and then hanging out with his friends even later and your at home because you have to get up really early and your watching TV and then you fall asleep on the couch and then you hear your dog pacing back and forth and back and forth because you've taken up the whole couch and she/he just can't seem to realize that sometimes dogs have to sleep on the floor?

Then you think that maybe she/he has to pee and you're afraid that she/he will pee in the house because she/he has an over-active bladder problem so you drag yourself off of the couch and take her/him outside and you tell her/him to "go pee" and so she/he sits down and... spends about 45 seconds scratching her/his ear.

So you wait because you really don't want her/him to pee inside and you're freezing so you sort of scream at her/him to "GO PEE" and so she/he brings you a tennis ball and then sits down and... scratches the other ear for 35 seconds.

So you say "fuck it" and go inside and decide you might as well just go to bed so you turn off all of the lights and climb into bed and the dogs fall asleep immediately on their dog beds and you close your eyes and are ready to go to sleep because you have to get up in 5 hours.

And then you hear all of these weird noises.

Creaks.

Thumps.

Bizarre scratching noises.

So you open your eyes and listen really carefully and the dogs don't move so you assume that it must be nothing.

Then you keep hearing weird noises and even though you tell yourself that it's nothing you're actually thinking that there is a zombie burglar outside and you get a little nervous but you keep saying that if the dogs aren't barking or freaking out then it must be nothing but THEN you start thinking that your dogs are either deaf or at the very least COMPLETELY USELESS.

So you start imagining what would happen if a burglar got into the house and if the dogs would attack the crook or if your dogs would sleep through it or if your dogs would just kiss the asshole and you start resenting your dogs for not protecting you.

Then you hear a car door and you hold your breath because you think that it's probably your significant other but what if it's a burglar or rapist who's just really noisy and then you hear the keys in the door and the dogs get up and bark a lot and you're thankful that they're not deaf and then you hear your significant other and you jump out of bed and run into the wall because it's dark and you don't have your glasses on and you got a head rush from jumping out of bed but that doesn't stop you from running to him/her and screaming "THANK GOD YOU'RE HOME! THERE ARE SCARY NOISES!!"

And he/she looks at you like you're kind of pathetic and he/she clearly feels a little sorry for you because you have obviously lost your mind.

So you go back to bed because you have to get up in less than 4 hours and you close your eyes and suddenly... all of the scary noises stop.

So you realize what this means... your significant other obviously has magic powers.

Thank Brad.

(True story.)

Fit or Fail: Let's Just Move on Edition

You know how I've been on a role with all of these FIT weeks...

Well...

This week? Not so much.

It started off pretty well; lots of exercise, riding bikes instead of driving, and eating pretty well.

And then I hit a wall.

And that wall was a big wall with a lot of Thai and Indian food on it.

And I decided to climb that wall and eat a whole lot of curry and noodles and naan.

(Mmm... naan.)

And then I got a cold. And I don't want to go to the gym when I have a cold (although I apparently have no problem going to a new Thai restaurant with a cold).

So I pretty much lost at this whole FIT or FAIL game this week. Especially in the last three days.

But I got my butt out of bed this morning (early afternoon) and went to the gym and walked for an hour on the treadmill (with hills and everything).

Hopefully that's a sign and I'll have a better time this week.

But we all need a few FAILs once in awhile, especially if the FAIL involves Pad Thai, Basmati Rice, and Saag Paneer.

Because those things make it totally worth it... at least every now and then.

(PS: If you read this on Sunday, Care.Com is having their last day of their Free Weekend, so be sure to take advantage.)

(PPS: I found a super cute purse for $4.98 today... I know that has nothing to do with fitness, but I'm so proud and excited that I'm giving myself a FIT for it anyway...)

I Usually have Better Taste than this...

It is no secret that I am lazy. I'm the first to admit it. And I accept it.

But yesterday's laziness was not entirely my fault.

I was going to blog, workout, finish reading my book...

It was rainy and therefore the perfect day to do all of those things...

But did I do anything even slightly productive? No.

And why?

Lifetime Movie Network.

What the hell is it about the Lifetime Movie Network that drags you in and keeps you there for HOURS?

I sat down to see if anything was good on TV and three hours later realized that I had FORGOTTEN TO EAT...

What is it about made-for-TV movies that are "ripped from the headlines" about serial killers and sex addicts? (Separate shows... though I'm sure they have something about Sex Addicts who Murder...) And why do they have an entire station dedicated to these movies?

I've always thought that Lifetime Movies existed to prolong the career of 80s teen stars like Tori Spelling and Molly Ringwald (don't get me wrong... every other commercial featured either Spelling, Ringwald, or Alyssa Milano.)

But did I realize I would spend an entire day glued to LMN? No...

And yet, there I was. Curled up on the couch on a rainy day, forgetting basic human needs like lunch, engrossed in crappy TV movies...

Well, if I were single and owned two-dozen cats, we'd have a problem. But I'm not, so I'll just enjoy.

Noted

Note to self:

When the laundry begins to actually jump out of the hamper (I'm finding clothes on the other side of the room... and the dogs SWEAR it wasn't them...) it just might be time to suck it up and do the laundry.

Otherwise you'll end up having to consider re-wearing dirty socks, and then the gravity of the situation will sink in.

Note to self:

The same goes for the dirty dishes in the sink... without the dirty socks revelation.

Note to self:

Hannah is TERRIFIED of toddlers on Big Wheel bikes.

If she sees one she will not walk within ten feet of it, she will attempt to walk between your legs (causing you to almost fall on said toddler and Big Wheel), and then she will continue to throw horrified puppy glances over her shoulder for at least two blocks, lest the evil creature sneaks up on her...

So, add "Toddlers on Big Wheels" to your Excel spreadsheet on all of the things your Golden Retriever is scared of... right after the noise the iron makes when it releases steam.

And, if at all possible, avoid such encounters in the future.

Note to self:

Cleaning in the spring is a complete WASTE OF TIME.

You will work very hard to sweep and vacuum and dust and as soon as you finish and are just starting to feel pretty proud of yourself a crazy Aussie Shepard named Bonnie will come inside and there will be mud EVERYWHERE.

(Seriously, people... I'm going to have to start charging guests for spa treatments when they come and sit on the couch...)

Note to self:

Don't wear cute clothes around the house for the same reason (this sort of explains the laundry situation...)

Trust me... you'll put on a really cute outfit and be all excited to go to your boyfriend's birthday party and then that same Aussie Shepard named Bonnie will come inside and decide that she must remind you just how adorable she is by SITTING ON YOUR CHEST.

And when you feel that slimy mud covering her paws and you scream for her to GET OFF she will think that your screaming is a demonstration of JOY and she will get excited and start trying to lick your ears.

And then you will also have to redo your makeup because you have a muddy nose print smudged under your right eye...

Note to self:

STOP leaving the house in your workout clothes with no makeup and dirty hair.

Before you know it you'll be standing in front of 100 people saying "Oh shit" and you'll suddenly say to yourself: "DAMMIT... I don't even have mascara on... and is that a muddy paw print on my yoga pants?"

Note to self:

Cherish the things that make you laugh and smile...

My thoughts are with some fellow bloggers, Heather and Mike, who lost their beautiful little girl, Maddie, yesterday.