Phoning It In

You knew this day would come.  I'm sure you're surprised I made it all the way until May.  But alas, I'm breaking the Tuesday streak... just this week.  I promise!

I'm sick.  I have Bronchitis.  And in case you missed it, I've got a marathon on Saturday.  It's not just any marathon.  It's a marathon which I have trained hard for.  I've been told the weather & course are ideal for a PR race.  For me, I was imagining crossing the finish line with a solid BQ and crying out of sheer happiness that I'd finally reached this 7-year-long goal. 

That could still happen.  My lungs could miraculously heal themselves in the next 5 days.  I could wake up tomorrow full of energy and feeling good.  Did I mention I haven't run in 2 weeks?

So, I've got all the excuses in the world.  But honestly, I'm just sitting around pouting and feeling sorry for myself and not writing a Top 10 Tuesday list. 

So, since I can't entertain you with a list, please enjoy this You Tube video.  My students shared it with me and I laughed pretty hard.

10 Questions about cleaning

I know, right?  We're talking about cleaning.  Snooze-fest.  But I seriously need your help!

I've repeatedly admitted to being completely clueless when it comes to keeping house.  I fear the day we upgrade from our tiny ranch because if I can't keep this place clean, how could I manage a house with even more rooms and square feet?!? 

It's not like I wasn't made to clean when I was growing up.  But I never really excelled at it then.  And I think I spent more time trying to get out of it than it should have actually taken to do the job well*.  For instance, there was a good length of time in middle school that I wasn't allowed to do anything until my room was cleaned.  So Nicky would come over weekly to clean my room.  Not only was she good at it, but she enjoyed it too**.

After about a month, my Dad realized what was going on and Nicky was banned from cleaning my room.  It was the best month ever.

So as I struggle to keep up the illusion that we are not living in squalor, I've come up with some questions that I need answered.  Please help me out and share if you've got answers.  I'm really striving to improve at this whole domestic thing (says the Home Ec teacher).

1.  How often do you clean?  And what is on your regular schedule?  I try to do the basics (sweep, dust, clean the bathroom) once a week.  But I even struggle with that.  And I feel like I'm probably missing something.

2.  What about clutter?  I always hear, "A place for everything and everything in its place".  How do you know where it's supposed to go?  I tend to pile things up on the kitchen table.  Hence the reason we always eat on the couch.

3.  How many "junk" rooms is too many?  Our office accumulates all the junk that doesn't have a place and our guest room is basically one big laundry basket.  And let's not even think about the basement.  Do you have a room that collects all your junk?  And if not, why don't you have junk?  Or do you?  And where do you put it?

4.  Speaking of laundry, how the hell do 2 people accumulate so. much. laundry?  I can't even fathom how parents do it.  I feel like I spend so much time sorting, washing, folding laundry.  And there are only 2 of us!!!  How do you handle the laundry???

5.  What's the best way to clean wood floors?  I am constantly sweeping up after the mutts, but I rarely ever mop.  It's got to be a germ-fest down there.

6.  What is Spring cleaning?  What am I supposed to clean during Spring cleaning?

7.  How do you store your shoes?  How do you know when to get rid of shoes?  I have a problem of hanging on to shoes "just in case" I have an occasion to wear them. 

8.  Where do you keep books, magazines, and mail?  I feel like they just pile up everywhere creating clutter and collecting dust.

9.  What products should I be using?  What are your faves?

10.  Do you have a number for a cleaning service that will not laugh at me for being unable to keep such a small home clean?  Maybe I need a personal organizer.  I should call AshLee from the Bachelor!!!

If only Martha Stewart would come over and give me a lesson on cleaning.  That's not happening, so I need your help!  If you give me answers, I promise next week's Top Ten will be much more interesting.  Pinky promise.

*My poor mother.
**Freak.

2012 in Review: Biggest Fails

You know I get into my fair share of pickles.  And I just love to share my crazy mishaps.  Somehow I've forgotten to tell you about a few.  And we just can't start the new year with you thinking 2012 went off without a hitch. 

I give you 2012's Biggest Fails:

1.  Ari's Ear.

Back in September, my socially inept dog had a little snafu with an otherwise friendly and sociable dog.  Katy was dog-sitting so I brought my mutts over for a little play date.  We were having a grand time drinking beers on her deck when all of a sudden we realized the deck was covered with blood.  Lots of blood. 

We realized the blood was coming from Mr. Dog's ear.  After trying to mend it myself, I was quickly overwhelmed by the amount of blood and we shot off to the doggie ER where he was drugged up and patched up.  We got home super late and I assumed it was the end of our ordeal.  I was wrong.

This is your dog on drugs.

Also important to this story is that Drew was out of town. 

The next morning I let Ari out of his crate and into the back yard.  He was trying to take off his cone and in a moment of freak out, I ran outside after him, closing the door behind me... not realizing I had just locked myself out... at 5 AM.  I sat on the front porch until around 6 AM when I finally saw a light come on in a neighbor's house.  After scaring the shit out of her, I used her phone to call Drew over and over and over until he finally answered and was able to call his dad who has a key to our house.  Thanks Tom!

Over the course of the next 5 days I went to the doggie ER 5 times due to the fact that my silly dog was relentless in pulling off his bandages and spraying blood all over my house.  Finally the vet gave me some serious sedatives, which still didn't keep him down.

The injury wasn't that bad, and probably wouldn't have been such a big deal had it happened to any other dog in the world.  But my guy likes to make things difficult.  And of course it happened when Drew was out of town. 

Ari is fine now... minus the fact that part of his ear is missing.  We tell him it gives his face character.  Still... a total fail.

2. The Roof.

My darling husband likes to get his hands dirty with DIY home projects.  So when our insurance company told us they would drop us if we didn't replace our old-ass roof, Drew decided to take on the project himself.

Sometimes I think he underestimates the amount of work involved... like what really goes into putting a new roof on a 50-year-old house.  Or how much work goes into taking off the 3-layers that have been piled on within those 50 years.

In October Drew planned out his project, priced out supplies, and trucked home a garage full of plywood and shingles.  I helped unload all these supplies... still a point of contention in our marriage.

Drew & his 1-man crew of Tom (Thanks Tom!) spent an entire day removing the old layers of roofing.  After an entire day of back-breaking labor, the two of them had removed 2 of the 3 layers on the back half of the roof.  The next morning they were back at it. 

After about an hour, Drew came in claiming he'd possibly maybe made a mistake and "bit off more than he could chew".  Lucky for us our dear friend (Hi Izzo!) manages a roofing company.  Within a couple of hours we had an entire crew on top of the house ripping off shingles.  By 7 o'clock that night we had a beautiful new roof.  Hooray!

After this incredible fail, we will think twice before taking on big scary projects.  Fail. 

3.  The Great Microwave Melting of 2012.

I always joke that I have set the kitchen on fire several times.  In 2012 I took that to a whole different level.  Here's how things went down.

I was making veggie burgers which called for toasted walnuts.  I lit the gas stove and set the pan on the flame to heat while I chopped the walnuts on the opposite counter.  After a couple of minutes I registered a smell that reminded me of burning paper. 

I turned around to see that the dish towel hanging above the stove had caught a spark and was literally up in flames.  As was my microwave.

I screamed.  Drew ran in.  He grabbed the fire extinguisher.  And I ran out of the house. 

The damage... even after we cleaned everything up.

Moral of the story, don't hang your dish towel above your stove.  And make sure you have a working fire extinguisher readily available. 

Silver Lining:  I got a new microwave! 

4.  My New Passport Photo.

We have big plans for international travel in 2013, and my passport is due to expire.  I was filling out the forms and knew I needed to get a new photo taken.  I checked out my old photo and thought to myself how terrible that photo was.  I looked so chubby!  I was holding onto a few (more than a few) extra pounds in college.  Something about beer and pizza...

Anyways, I headed to CVS and had a new photo snapped.  There was an audible gasp when I saw my new photo. 

Old-ass crack head.

For the record, I would choose chubby college kid to old-ass crack head every time.

Seriously though, is that what I look like?!?!?  Fail.

I'm leaving it at four.  I'm sure if I thought a bit harder I could come up with a fifth fail... like the time I almost got fired from my super-awesome job, or the time we lost to Baylor (wtf?), or when we got kicked out of that super fancy restaurant, or all those times I drank too much and acted a fool.  But I think four will suffice.

Here's to more fails in 2013!  I hope that by 2014 we'll be able to laugh at them!

Middle School Track

My history of track, like most things in my life, is long and storied.

No it's not.  It's very short and un-interesting. 

Back in the day, my days as a Wilbur Wrangler*, I went out for track.  I'm not even sure why.  I mean, I didn't do anything productive back then.  Regardless, I joined. 

I don't remember a whole lot about track, but I do remember that Brandy was there.  Brandy was about as productive as I was in middle school.  You can imagine how productive we were together.

Both of us were pegged as distance runners which meant that our coach would basically tell us to go run far.  I'm not sure where we were supposed to run, but usually we just ran to the Braum's down the street, sat down to eat ice cream, then ran back.  Peanut butter oatmeal cookie dough ice cream... so much better than running.

We were pretty nervous for our first meet, probably because of our lack of practice actually running.  So we agreed to run together during our 400 so that neither of us would look stupid coming in last.  Then that B took off without me and I ended up coming in last.  Alone.  Grrr...

We also ran the hurdles together.  Heaven forbid we actually do something independently.  Or well.  We were both pretty terrible at the hurdles.  The proof is on our 8th grade video yearbook where some a-hole included footage of Brandy falling while racing the hurdles at a meet.  Then some a-hole friend (me) showed that footage to her boyfriend in 9th grade**.

That's pretty much the extent of my experience with track.  I opted for cheerleading and Honey Bears in high school over a real sport and didn't pick up running again until college***.

So you can imagine my surprise when I was hired as the assistant track coach at school.  I didn't think I'd know what to do or how to help, but surprisingly my experience has totally come in handy. 

Like when the distance runners ask if they can run off school property.  Absolutely not.  There's a Starbucks right across the street.  You stay on the track ladies.

Or how about when my speedy miler all of a sudden started losing at meets and coming in at the same time as her BFF who has always been waaaay slower than her?  Oh we had a talk.  I know what's going on here.  She needs to pull a Brandy and just take off and leave her friend in the dust!

In all seriousness though, track is awesome.  I get to hang out with my kids every afternoon and spend time in the sun.  I'm also in charge of coaching high jump.  I didn't know what the high jump was until the day before track started.  But somehow a rumor got out that I did high jump in college.  I've had all kinds of parents come up to me and tell me how excited they are to have an expert coaching their kids.  My expert coaching usually goes like this:

"Jump higher."

Did I just blow your mind?  There's more:  they're actually paying me to do this.  I know!

*No, really.
**Serves that b*tch right for leaving me in the dust during the 400!
***Jim says I was too busy smoking to run track in high school. 

These arms weren't made for TV...

... or mirrors.

We're doing a unit on yeast breads in my 8th grade class.  It's super fun because I get to do things like demonstrate how to make cinnamon rolls.  I get to stand in front of the class at my kitchen and there's this big mirror over me so they can see exactly what I'm doing.

And yes, I do pretend that I'm on my very own Food Network show.  Hmmm... what would I call it??

Anyways... there I am, making dough... and I get to the part where after the dough has risen you get to punch it down.  This is like the highlight of the show.  They're eighth graders.  What with all the hormones, punching stuff should really appeal to them.

So I'm punching the heck out of this bowl of dough when one of my gals says (not quietly), "Mrs. Gibson, your arm is shaking."  Then an eighth grade boy replies (not quietly), "Shhh... that's what happens when you get old."

And that's what's going on in my life.  So much for P90X... and my self-esteem.

Happy Monday!

Fat Dog

I came home last night to a dark house and thought maybe Drew had gone to bed uber-early.  I walked in to find him and the dogs sitting by candlelight.  No, he wasn't planning a romantic evening... the power went out.  I guess the heat was too much for PV to handle.  Our whole street was dark, except for the lights from the fireworks the WT family was setting off.  Awesome.

I joined Drew and the dogs on the couch and Drew made the comment*, "See Ari, this is what people did in the old days.  They sat around by candlelight and... talked."  For some reason this made us laugh... a lot.  I'm not sure we've ever talked without the TV on in the background.  It facilitates our communication.

So, we sat there for awhile... talking.  It didn't take long for that to get old.  So Drew decided to measure Ari's body fat.

"I feel so fat."

This isn't dog abuse.  And lucky for Mya the power came on before it was her turn.  And lucky for us the TV came back on so we didn't have to worry about... talking.

*Other people have conversations with their dogs, right?  Right?!

Garden of Doom

You know those people who post pictures of all their garden bounty on Facebook?  Yeah, I'm not one of those people.  Mainly because I don't have any garden bounty.  Those people posting those pictures, make me sad.  My garden is sad.  Let's take a look at all the sadness...

Embarrassed Tomatoes.

My tomato plants are huge and full and healthy.  One of them is even blooming like crazy.  But all the blooms just dry up and die.  No tomatoes.  The other one looks like its going to bloom, but then nothing is there.  Sadness.  I think they are embarrassed that I planted them in Lowe's buckets.  Pretty pots for sure next year.  I'm sorry, tomato plants.  I didn't know you were so sensitive.

The day after I took these pictures I went out and looked at plant number one, and literally got tears in my eyes when I saw a tiny tiny little green tomato popping out.  Tears.  I was so excited I made Drew come out and see.  His response? 

"That doesn't look like a tomato."  

Like I said, he doesn't get excited about vegetables.  Where's Jack when I need him?

On to the row of doom...

Row of Doom.

My zucchini plant never really did anything this year.  It keeps growing, but as soon as new leaves sprout, the other ones die.  It is a sad sad zucchini plant.  I'm leaving it there... just in case it decides to take on a better perspective and thrive. 

Thrive, damn it.

My sole kale plant was doing so well at the beginning of the summer!  He was growing like crazy.  Then all of a sudden these tiny black bugs started attacking him and literally ate every single leaf until he was nothing but stems.  He's making a slow comeback, but still looks like the smallest, saddest kale ever.

Teeny tiny sad kale.

In brighter news, the cukes are making some progress.  I can always count on my cukes.

Baby cucumbers.

My eggplant is growing beautifully.  Eggplant are usually late bloomers, so I'm just happy he seems to be thriving so far.  I'll look forward to eggplant in August.  Fingers crossed!

Don't let me down Mr. Eggplant.

In other news, a Daddy Long Legs lives in my eggplant.  He's there every time I go to water.  What should we name him?

"I love eggplant."

The peppers are sprouting tiny little pepper guys.  I'm trying not to get my hopes up since my last little pepper jumped off the plant to an early death when he was the size of my thumb.  Let's hope these guys have a better outlook on life.

Happy Pepper.

Somewhere along the way I decided that the reason my tomatoes weren't turning into tomatoes was because we don't have enough bees to pollinate them.  So I Googled "how to attract more bees" and found out you can actually keep your own hive.  They pollinate all your veggies, and make honey.  Score! 

When I shared this idea with Drew he immediately shot me down and told me to stop living in Jamieland.  Rude.  I figured I could talk him into it eventually.  But after viewing a video on how to catch a swarm of bees, I'm pretty sure beekeeping isn't for me. 

The upside to all this garden doom?  I get to spend lots of time outside in the sunshine, with my puppies.  And they are hilarious.

Doesn't Mya look like she's about to take flight? :)

MmmKay.  Randomness over.  Happy gardening to you.  But if you post pictures of all your big red tomatoes on Facebook, I'm going to defriend you.  Mom, I'm talking to you.

Sufferin' Succotash

Drew took the week off from work so this morning we went on a little breakfast date... before all of the tornado nonsense.  Succotash is just off of Crown Center and definitely has an alternative flair.  Drew was uber-impressed with their wall art.

I hadn't been to Succotash since it was located in the River Market... which was awhile ago!  But I remember it being good.  You could smell the bacon from like a block away.  Not that I'm into that kind of thing...

Drew ordered the Kitchen Sink which I can't find on their online menu.  But it looked like it had just about everything in there you could think of... covered with gravy. 

Everything but the...

I was so impressed with the menu options!  They offer a Vegetarian Kitchen Sink and a Vegan Kitchen Sink.  In the flap-jack section they offered Gluten-Free Pancakes and Vegan Pancakes.  Very nice.  I skipped all the veggie hub-bub and ordered a BLT, minus the B.

ELT.

BLT:  2 eggs, cheddar, bacon, arugula, tomato & pesto on toasted oatmeal bread.  Served with home fries.

I'm pretty sure that was Romaine, and instead of pesto mayo they used regular mayo and added basil leaves.  But those things didn't really matter.  This sandwich was off the charts good.  Egg sandwiches are one of my true loves, and Succotash did theirs right.  The mountain of potatoes on the side didn't hurt either.

Yes, the food was wonderful.  But more importantly?  The coffee was super.  I took down two big cups before declaring my love.  Drew disagreed.  He said it was weak.  Go figure.  We never agree on anything.  So I drank his cup of coffee.  Hater.

If you're looking for a fun place to eat your morning meal (or brunch!) with awesome coffee and only slightly offensive wall art, check out Succotash.  It receives the Gibson Seal of Approval!

In other news... what's going on with the speed limits in Roeland Park???  Is this for real?

Fail.

Happy Wednesday!  Hope you don't get pulled over for going 35 mph!!!

S&M

We've all heard Rihanna's new song, right?  What do you think?

Honestly, I'm a huge Rihanna fan.  Not so much a fan of this song.  I think there is a point when people are just trying to be controversial for controversy's sake.  And this is it.

Clearly its popular amongst others though...

At Girls on the Run practice we run a quarter mile loop around several soccer and baseball fields.  Today there was a group of middle school boys practicing on one of the soccer fields.  Every time the girls looped back around to me they'd complain that the boys were staring at them or making mean comments.  I told them just to ignore the boys.

One of my girls came around and told me that one of the boys had called her dumb, but she just told him "Sticks and stones may break my bones but whips and chains excite me."

O. M. G.

What is the appropriate response here???  I know it wasn't the one I gave; which was to pee my pants a little and send her on her way before I burst out laughing. 

I don't know that either me or Rihanna is making a great impression on these little girls.

Run by Numbers

I'm totally stealing this post idea from another runner.

20:  Miles I intended to run.

.01: Miles I ran further than intended.  This never happens.

3:13:34:  Time it took.

9:  Minutes longer than it took last time I ran 20.

9:40: Overall pace.

Yeah, its upside down.

46: Degrees when I left this morning.

5:10:  Time I set my alarm for.

6:10:  Time I actually left to run.  I take a really long time to warm up, eat breakfast, drink 7 cups of coffee, etc.

6: Miles run in the dark.  So no music.  That makes for a really long 6 miles.

2:  Number of potty breaks.  1st porta-potty experience of this go-round of marathon training.

3:  Number of Gu's eaten; eaten at mile 6, 12, and 17.5.  For the record, Orange is by far the worst flavor of Gu.

5:  Number of times I listened to Glee's Loser Like Me.  I was a little skeptical when they announced they'd be doing original songs, but I'm in love.

1.5:  Number of bananas I snarfed down when I got home.  Hungry!  Mya got the other half.

4:  Number of bags of ice I poured into the tub for an ice bath.  Everyone raves about the effects of an ice bath, and since I was super sore after my last 20-miler, I thought I'd give it a try.

15:  Number of minutes I planned on sitting in said ice bath.

30:  Number of seconds I lasted in said ice bath.

50:  Number of curse words that came out of my mouth during those 30 seconds.

2:  Very scared and confused puppies for those 30 seconds.

0:  Times I will ever ever ever attempt another ice bath.

1:  Number of glasses of wine it will take to get me happy at dinner tonight.  I love running.  It makes me a really cheap date.

An Irish Tale

Happy St. Patrick's Day!!!

I'm Irish.  And very proud of it.  Giving up my maiden name was one of the hardest things ever.  I loved being a McNiece.  So Irish. 

Anyways, I'm here today to tell you a story of Irish pride, and how it can get you into trouble.

There I was, in a bar in Spain, with my other favorite McNiece.  I'd had a bit too much to drink and was happily (loudly) telling some Spaniards about being Irish.  Being bolstered by the cervezas, I made some pretty wild claims.  I told them (loudly) that on a scale of 1 to 10 of how Irish a person could be, with 1 being a Spanish midget and 10 being St. Patrick himself, I was an eleven.  That's right, I'm more Irish than St. Patrick.

While all of this is going on, two actual Irish gals (like they were born in Ireland and lived there, not just had a last name that started with Mc) were sitting at the bar a few feet away from us.  Apparently they didn't like my (loud) ranting and claims of being Irish.  I guess maybe its offensive to claim to be more Irish than St. Patrick?  Anyways, they were not happy with me.

Somehow Jess got me out of the bar unscathed.  But I hope this serves as a cautionary tale.  Go out and be Irish today, but watch out for any real Irish folk.  They might not find you as charming as a four-leaf clover.  And for goodness sake, please don't compare yourself to St. Patrick... or a Spanish midget for that matter.

Happy St. Patty's Day!!!

Husband of the Year

I haven't shared a Jamie-Drew conversation in a long time.  That's because there haven't been many Jamie-Drew conversations for awhile.  He's gone.  He's at work.  All. The. Time.  We don't see a lot of him around here lately. 

That doesn't mean I can't harass him with the details of my life via email though.  One particular email I sent this week was very dramatic important.  I had just received an email from a person (who shall remain nameless... because I don't know who reads this stuff) which requested me to do something which made me throw up in my mouth feel slightly uncomfortable. 

I freaked out and emailed Drew immediately for advice.  That email went something like this:

"OMG OMG OMG.  You will not believe what just happened!!!  Blah blah blah.  La la la la la.  Drama drama drama.  Can you believe that?  OMG.  What am I going to do???  WTF WTF WTF?!?!?  How am I going to get out of this?!?!"

Drew, always good with the advice, sent this one line response:

"Tell him you are allergic to douchery."

Ahh Drew.  Always good with the advice.  Clearly someone is too busy reading financial statements and doing whatever it is auditors do to take my serious problems seriously.  I guess I should just count my blessings that I haven't been audited yet this busy season.

I have however, been punched in the face.

Don't mess with that guy during busy season.  He is gr-umpy! 

Love you Drew!!!

Body Type

Do you ever read those magazine articles that are supposed to help you dress for your body type?  I get so frustrated because I never feel like any of those body types apply to me.  They always have petite (definitely not me), tall (not so much), busty (yeah, no), pear-shaped (don't think so), curvy or plus-sized (nope), and boy-shaped (I don't even know what that means).  How the heck am I supposed to know what to wear!?

Imagine how excited I was when I flipped through a Shape Magazine and saw this:

Body Type: Athletic

"As a marathoner, my thighs and calves are pretty muscular. This flared silhouette makes my legs look longer and leaner while accentuating my waist. Now I feel strong and sexy!" —Christina Luciw


Best Jeans: Dl1961 Roxy Kick Flare Jeans


Made with a four-way stretch fabric, these jeans hug Christina's curves without sagging or gapping—anywhere. The slim-to-the-knee fit and deep indigo rinse have a streamlining effect on her thighs, while the wider leg opening and longer hemline create the illusion of narrow calves. Add to that a medium rise (7 1∕2 inches) and curved waistband and these become the best jeans to give this body type a sleek look from torso to toe. $168, dl1961.com



Yes!  That's totally me!  I have a body-type!!!  Finally someone can tell me what to wear... at least what jeans I should wear I guess. 

So, here I am, all excited that I know my body type... when I get to my Fabrications class and find out that we have to have our measurements taken... right this very instant.

This might be super embarrassing... getting your measurements taken in a class full of 19-year old, 100 pound, fashion majors... but my saving grace was that we FACSY gals stick out like a sore thumb and tend to congregate together... and away from the waif-y fashion girls.

The FACS major who measured me was of a more substantial size and didn't gasp (at first) when checking the number on the measuring tape.  However, as we moved from bust to hips, she had to do multiple measurements because she couldn't believe my hips were that much bigger than my bust.

What can I say?  God has blessed me with a boy-shaped upper half and a curvy* on bottom.  She didn't need to make such a scene. 

After everyone was done measuring and fully traumatized, our teacher started explaining how to pick out patterns in the proper size... and then moved on to discuss body-type. 

"Do you know what it means if your hips are bigger than your bust?  It means you are pear-shaped, and you need to dress your body accordingly."

What?!?  No!!!  I'm not pear-shaped!  I'm athletic.  Athletic.  Just ask Shape Magazine!!!

Boo.  This would not have been the case had I worn my usual uber-padded bra.  But no, I picked measurement day to wear a sports bra to class.  At least we didn't have to weigh in or something awful like that.

*Don't hate on the ghetto-booty.

Snow Day Give-Away!!!

That's right.  I'm doing a give-away.  Because that's what people with blogs do, right?  But first, you have to put up with a bit of crazy.

I love Runner's World.  It is my favorite magazine.  It is full of inspiration in the form of stories and pictures of hot people.  But for the longest time I have felt that the people behind Runner's World are trying to screw me.

Two years ago, when renewing my subscription, I thought to myself that it would make more sense to do a two year subscription because it was less expensive per issue and I wouldn't have to mess with it again in a year.  So I paid for a two-year subscription.  I have no proof that what I say is true.

Imagine my surprise when I received a letter last year informing me that it was time to renew my subscription, along with a bill of $24.00 for the next year's issues.  $24???  Please.  They are always offering this magazine for like $12 a year.  No way am I paying twice as much. 

I know there isn't a huge difference between twelve dollars and twenty-four dollars.  But please remember that I totally paid for a two-year subscription the previous year... of which I had no record.

I almost didn't renew.  But I really really love that magazine.  So I did it.  I paid the stupid $24 and swore I was going to get a better deal next year.  Which is this year.

I received an email close to the beginning of January that offered me a twelve month subscription for $12.  Thank you!  That is what I want.  So I clicked on it.  I filled in my information.  Then there was a little box I could check to do one year for $12 or two years for $24.  Heck yes I'll do two years!  So I clicked the box.  I confirmed all of my information and thought I was done. 

Then another page popped up offering me a Runner's World running journal with a HUGE box that said "Yes!  I accept!" and a teensy tiny box that said "No Thank You."  I went to click "no" and my mouse slipped and I accidentally hit the ginormo-yes-box. 

The next page that popped up was just a confirmation of my order ---> two years of Runner's World and the GD Running Journal... which was an extra $15.64!!!!!  There was no way to un-do the mistake because they already had my credit card info.  Those gypsies got me again!!!

Here's the thing:  I love running journals.  I get one every year.  I get the same one every year.  So no.  I do not need another one.  Especially one that costs $15.00.

These are mine.

I wait every year until after the first of the year to purchase one because by that time they go on sale.  See???  I am super cheap.  I would not buy one on a whim.  I plan these things out.

On a fun note, when I pulled these out to photograph them, pictures from my first race fell out:

Wichita 1/2 Marathon!

Back on track!!!

Since I obviously don't need this running journal...

You win this one, Runner's World.

... I'm going to give it to you!  Not only will you receive this super awesome running journal (I have to admit it is pretty nice)... but you will also receive the Special Report from Men's Health titled, "Who Ever Dreamed You Could Get So Big So Fast!" that came with it.  Because I know you want that.

But that's not all folks!  Enter now and you could win this dog!

"Wait.  What?!"

No, I'm just kidding.  You can't have my dog.  You probably don't want my dog. 

BUT, since I know some of you aren't runners, if you win I will also include in your prize package a batch of cookies of your choosing, baked by me.  Your choice: vegan, gluten-free, or Jamie-style (full-fat, extra sugar).  To further entice you, please click here, here, or here.

TO ENTER just leave a comment on this post.  Bonus points if you tell me a funny story about a time you've been wronged when making purchases via the internet.

Contest will close Sunday at midnight.  Winner chosen at random and announced Monday morning.  To make things easier on you, I'm momentarily going to take off the word verification thingy, so if porn-bots invade my blog, please do not click on their links.  Good luck!

***Oh, and I printed out the order confirmation page this time.  So when RW comes knocking at my door next year, I've got proof that I paid for two years.

Meatless "Snow Day"

I am bitter.  Everyone is talking about their snow day and I'm pretty sure that my school was the only one in the metro area that didn't cancel classes today. 

Since it was the first day of school I felt like it might be totally unacceptable to skip class.  So I woke up early and left at 7:30 for my 9:00 class.  It usually takes about an hour to get to Warrensburg so I thought I'd be fine.  I was not.

I drove most of the way going about 35 miles an hour.  Cars and trucks kept sliding off the road and I was terrified.  Terrified. 

I got into town and everything was a cluster.  I had to park super far away and was covered in snow by the time I made it to my building.  I wasn't exactly sure which classroom I was in, but I thought I had a good idea of which one it was.

I burst into a room while the teacher was lecturing... it was around 9:30.  I was totally flustered and just started blurting out apologies and explaining that the roads from Kansas City were terrible... blah blah blah.  The teacher was looking at me kind of funny, as was the rest of the class, and I finally asked if she was Kelly (my teacher's name).  She was not. 

Oops.  Wrong class.

My class was next door.  I didn't realize it because it was empty.  I missed the whole thing.  Awesome.

The teacher was still there and told me that because of the snow she'd just handed out the syllabus and let everyone leave.  I guess it didn't occur to her to email us and let us know. 

It took me two hours to get home and the roads were even worse.  A cop almost ran me off the road.  Thank you, sir.  I was pretty much a mess when I got home. 

So I declared my own snow day.  I hung out in PJs for the rest of the day, drank hot chocolate, and cuddled with my puppies.  Mya is very helpful with homework.

I got an email not long after I got home that the school was closing at 3:00 due to inclimate weather.  Thanks UCM.  Thanks a lot.

SO, I had a vegetarian chili recipe to post, but instead I'm going to show you how I mastered the Pioneer Woman Pizza Crust.  Because that seems more snow day appropriate. 

Snow Day = Comfort Food = Pizza (and hot chocolate)

We have been eating a lot (alot) of pizza lately.  It is easy.  It is cheesy.  And each recipe makes two crusts.  So I make crust one day and get two meals from it. 

That is some good home economics if you ask me.

But it didn't start out so well.  I don't know if my oven isn't quite as hot as P-Dub's or if it is because I use a stone and she uses a sheet... but the first couple of times I made pizza it was all soggy in the middle.

Soggy pizza = blech = I still ate it.

After some experimenting, I've totally got it down.  Now, this method works for my oven, but it might not work for yours!  Try it out... I'm serious.  Do it.  And make adjustments as necessary.

So what I do is, I make the crust as she says to, and I let it rise and all that junk.  But before I roll it out, I toss a handful of cornmeal on the pizza stone to keep it from sticking.  This made a HUGE difference for me.

Corn Meal on Stone.

P.S.  The stone is not dirty.  It just darkens in the oven.  Or so I'm told.  Hell, it's probably really dirty.

Next, you toss the dough onto the stone:

Unnecessary photo.

Pioneer Woman says to just use your fingers to flatten it out.  Her fingers must be stronger than mine because I can never get it all the way to the edges.  So I start with the rolling pin to get it nice and thin.  Then I kind of push it out with my fingers because she says that finger divets are good for holding sauce.

Finger craters.

Next, drizzle on some olive oil... I don't really know why... then poke holes with a fork to keep it from puffing up too much.

Dog ♥ Pizza.

Next comes the most important change that I make to the recipe!!!  P-Dub rolls out the dough then tops it and puts it in the oven.  I stick the dough in the oven for about 6 minutes sans toppings to pre-bake.  This made all the difference for us. 

No more soggy middle!!!

I guess it depends how you like your pizza, but we're more of the crispy-lovin' type.  I don't like doughy dough.

Oh, and don't hate, but this isn't exactly meatless.  At all.  Drew's half is full of turkey pepperoni.  Full disclosure here, because I know how ya'll like to call me out for missteps on the blog*.

Dinner on the couch.  Again.

The puppies have also been enjoying some snow day fun.  While Ari has decided he is boycotting snow and only relieving himself on the deck, he does enjoy the extra couch time with mom & dad.  They also had a little snow day treat of peanut butter jars!  Woot Woot!

Snarfle.

"If only I had a longer tongue."

Peanut butter makes Mya smile.

And, that's our meatless Monday.  A tad unconventional, but at least I didn't show you how to make hot chocolate (Pour Carnation powder into boiling water.  Stir.).

I hope everyone is having a warm and happy snow day too!

Happy {meatless} Monday!

*Apparently there is no such thing as a "shot-vac".  It is called a shop-vac.  Thank you to the several dozen of you who felt it necessary to correct that. :)

Shot Gun.

In keeping with my New Year's resolution to keep my car clean, I pulled out the shot-vac and tried to tackle the insane amount of dog hair in there.  It was a gorgeous day so I decided to let Miss Mya join me outside.  I ran in to grab a trash bag (lots of candy wrappers in there too) and came back to this:

Mya loves car rides.  I didn't realize she also loves just being in the car.  And that is why there will always be dog hair in my car.  I can't say no to her.  I just can't. 

She hung out while I vacuumed out the driver-side and backseat.  I had to lure her out with cookies so I could clean all of the fresh white fur out of the passenger side.

Other people have dogs and seem to enjoy normal, relatively clean lives.  What is the secret??  Because I can't keep up with the fur.  These dogs run my life. 

But isn't she just so pretty?

Thistle & Lu

I get lost easily.  For some reason I always think I know where I'm going... until about half way there I realize I have absolutely no idea.  But, I feel that as my husband for almost four years now, Drew should know this about me.  And he should insist that we Mapquest things before we leave.

This weekend we were out and about, finishing up some Christmas shopping.  We were on the Plaza and I got Drew to agree to lunch at Lulu's and a stop by Thistle.  Really I wanted to go to Thistle and I knew it was right next to Lulu's.  And I knew where Lulu's is because I always see the sign when I'm driving around downtown.  So I figured I could find both.  I was wrong.

After driving up and down the streets of downtown KC looking for a little cartoon asian girl on a building, we were about to call it quits (our Thistle search, not our marriage) when Drew spotted Lulu!  We parked and walked all around the building looking for Thistle.  I swear Lauren said it was right next door.  I was very disoriented.

So we put off our search and headed back to Lulu's for some noodle-goodness.  We split the Pad Thai.  It was so good I did the happy fork dance... with chopsticks.



Happy Chopsticks.



We also shared a plate of dumplings: half pork, half veg.  The waitress asked us the most ridiculous question: "Fried or steamed?" 

Fried.  Always fried.

Fried dumplings.

Seriously, the food was amazing.  Amazing.  Drew decided he likes the tofu better at Blue Koi and I decided he is crazy.  Crazy. 

Drew don't know jack about tofu.

We started getting crazy and dipping everything in the chili sauce.  Whoa, that stuff is hot.  Hot!

Holy Hotness Batman!

Drew inquired again as to what Thistle is.  As I'm not exactly sure, I started off by saying, "Well, it isn't an antique store..."  which immediately set him off.  Drew holds a grudge against antiques ever since I made him walk around the Mission Antique Mall with me and he got super creeped out by some super creepy stuff. 

So I tried to back-peddle and describe how Geri has the most amazing vintage stuff in her house and she can make old furniture into new and she is totally awesome.  Maybe I didn't do it justice because Drew said it sounds like a hippie store.   Then he explained that there are two things he hates in this world...

Antiques & Hippies.

I told him he better check his compost bin in the backyard because I'm pretty sure that is the calling-card of hippies.  Just ask the neighbors.

Back to Lulu's.  So now you know I think it is wonderful and fabulous and probably couldn't get any better, right? 

BUT WAIT!!!

Oh no they didn't.

Yep, they sell Glace ice cream.  Stop it.  I'm never leaving. 

Our super-friendly waitress gave us directions to Thistle and explained that Lulu's had just moved last week to a new location.  That's why I was so lost and confused!  I knew I wasn't that directionally challenged.

We made our way around the corner and spotted it!

Ta da!

I snapped a photo as we approached the front door... and discovered it was closed.  Drew was not amused.  I was devastated!  Apparently I read wrong... I thought they were open every weekend before Christmas, but they were actually only open on Fridays before Christmas.  Dang it!

Anyone want to join me for some Thistl-ing in January?  I know just how to get there!

Hey Tuesday, WTF?!

Tuesday, you have let me down.  You promised to be better than Monday.  You fail.

I'm wearing leggings and a t-shirt.  I look like Peg Bundy.  Why?  Because I'm washing all of my jeans.  All of them. 

WTF?

Apparently the washer got hungry and decided to eat my jeans.  At first I wasn't sure I was going to get them out.  Lucky for you I won't be parading around in my skivvies tomorrow.  It took awhile but I was finally able to pry everything from the angry jaws of the washer. 

These bed pants got the worst of it.

I've had those bed-pants since high school.  So I guess maybe the washer was trying to tell me its time to send them packing?  

Awesome.

Question:  Which would you rather have - smashed car mirror or broken washer?

This may sound crazy, but I have to go with smashed mirror.  I hate having dirty laundry.  Hate it. 

Next question: Who do you call to fix a washing machine?

Bad Hippie Dog.

Or... Unexpected Problems That May Occur while you are Composting.

I love my compost bin.  It is all full and by Spring I will have Super Soil which will in turn lead to Super Vegetable Garden.  Dreams people.  I have dreams.

We have a little plastic bin in the garage that I use for daily stuff, like banana peels and coffee grinds.  But when I'm doing lots of chopping and prepping in the kitchen, I use a big ol' plastic bowl.  You know Rachael Ray's Garbage Bowl?  Same idea.  Then I just take the whole bowl out and dump it in the compost bin.  Easy.

The brown dog loves to go out to the bin with me.  He seriously gets so excited when I open it up.  He jumps around and freaks out over what's in there.  If he'd actually look, its mostly just leaves and banana peels.

Today he got a bit too excited and decided to snag the my compost bowl right out of my hand. 

Okay, funny enough.  Now bring that back, Mr. Dog!

I really wasn't too concerned as he paraded around the back yard with his treasure.  That is until I went to snag it back and he went into destruction mode.



Must.  Destruct.  Now.

I bet it took ten seconds before he had that dang bowl in pieces.

Well that was easy.

Chew chew chew.

 Like any good dog owner, I went and got my camera.  We're way past discipline here, folks. 

Bad dog.  Now smile for the camera.

Torn to shreds.

Goodbye compost bowl.

Someone should tell Mr. Dog that he is being very wasteful.  And that isn't like a good hippie dog now is it?

Reduce Reuse Obliterate.

Bad Hippie Dog!

I guess he's reusing the bowl as a chew toy.

He ran around the yard in circles with the only piece of plastic he had left.  He was pretty darn proud of himself to say the least.

I am so fast!

This is what you get for not buying me toys!

As a consequence for his actions, Ari has been sentenced to 100 hours of community service in the form of hugging trees.  He's got a lot of trees to hug to make up for being so naughty.