Yep. So I made a big list of resolutions for 2011. I also kept track of the dates of when I broke the resolutions so I could see how many I kept. I think the record speaks for itself when I say that I should never try to do any New Year's Resolutions. Ever.
New Year's Resolutions (I Am SOOO Good At Keeping These)
I, Carolyn, will now make my resolutions for the year 2011. . .
I resolve -
to go to the doctor when I'm sick. Broken 1/18/11
to be nice to Quincy and not call him a vile filthy mongrel anymore, even though he is. Broken 1/1/11
to always remember to write thank you notes as well as to always respond promptly to party invitations. Broken 5/2/11
to completely organize my entire house. I will have a place for everything. I will always remember to put things back exactly where they are. To further that effort, I resolve
to get one of those little label maker thingies. (I've always secretly wanted one, but I really just look at it as a toy.) Broken 12/31/11 (Never did get one even though I had a whole year? SAD.)
to cut carbs completely out of my diet. Broken 1/1/11
to go to the gym five days a week. Broken 1/7/11
to pay attention to all the latest fashion trends and start buying stylish clothes. I will stop wearing my Doc Martins because they are out of style. I will also stop wearing birth control outfits. You know what I'm talking about? I have one on today. But no more! Broken 1/3/11
to purchase a lovely designer handbag. (grrrrrrrr) KEPT IT!
to write a best selling book and have it published within the year. Broken 12/31/11 :(
to always prepare and serve my family a nutritious meal made with a loving and gentle heart. And to stop serving them breakfast for dinner once a week because it's cheap and easy. Broken 1/7/11
to always share my chocolate, my ice cream, and any other treat I get with my son and stop hoarding all the good stuff. Broken 1/2/11
to always admit to him when his MiMi and PaPa sent him that chocolate, or that cake, or that cookie and not pretend that they gave it to me. Broken 1/19/11 Don't. Judge. Me.
to not get the stomach flu even though I have a four year old who will almost certainly bring it home with him from preschool. MIRACULOUSLY KEPT IT. (Might have to keep this one after all. Maybe that was what kept me from getting it???)
to never second guess my husband and not try to tell him how to handle our son. Broken 1/2/11
to get up every morning as soon as my son calls out and always let my husband sleep in instead of pretending I can't hear said son calling out. Broken 1/1/11 (but in my defense I was trying to wake up with a dose of Nyquil in me)
to always let my husband have the pick of what we watch on TV. Broken 1/2/11 (We started to watch Polar Express with Jman who was scared of it, and I wanted to finish watching it. Then I made him watch the end of Enchanted. HA HA HA HA!!)
to wear my tiara everywhere and only be addressed as Her Royal Highness, Princess Carolyn. If you do not address me as such, I will not answer. (Sigh. I wish I could make that one be true.) Broken 1/1/11. Sigh.
to remember not to look like an idiot when running races this year. I will have long hair, pulled back in a chic pony tail, and I will smile serenely at any Brightroom photographer I pass this year. Broken 11/12/11 See here for proof.
to learn how to decorate my home so that it no longer looks like we live in a nursing home. Broken 12/31/11 It's as bad as my BC outfits. . .
to dust the house at least twice this year. Broken 12/31/11 In my defense, dusting is BORING.
to stop looking at the vacuum cleaner as though I think it must be some kind of home improvement tool and make my husband use it because I don't understand how it works. Broken 1/2/11
to not have my son sit in front of the TV all day for a whole week so that mommy can work on the computer when I am really writing my book. (oopsie.) Broken 4/11/11
to keep up with the laundry in almost an OCD fashion instead of letting it pile up so high that we have to have a jammie day in the middle of the week. Because I now know it is embarrassing for my husband and son to show up at work and school that way. Broken 1/15/11
So let's see. I had a total of 23 resolutions. Aaaaaaannnnnnd, I kept - 2. OK then.
Happy Day, folks!
Tuesday, January 3, 2012
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Thank Goodness My Husband Doesn't Read My Blog. . .
You know, it used to kind of offend me that my husband wasn't all that interested in reading my blog. I'd be all like, "WHY doesn't he take an interest in this? I LIKE this, and it's about ME, and shouldn't he be INTERESTED in ME and WHAT I LIKE?!?!?!?"
But. . .
1. He is interested and reads it whenever he can. However, he is usually tied up in actually working crazy amounts to try and provide for us so that I can stay home and be here for our son. And that means much more to me than him reading my blog. Plus, it's really me. I can't help it if I find it offensive that he his not hitting his refresh button every 30 seconds to see if I've written anything else. Also -
2. Now I realize that I can totally confess stuff on here and he'll never know! Unless one of my followers who know both of us told him about the stuff I confess. But you wouldn't do that to me. Right? (I so hope all of you are nodding in agreement right now, cos here goes. . .)
I took our dishwasher apart today.
Uh-huh. I surely did.
So we moved into this house almost 4 years ago (sidebar - WOW! Time flies!) And the dishwasher has never really washed dishes all that well. And it just got worse the longer we lived here. Occasionally, I'd ask my very handy husband if he could take a look at it.
OK, hold on a second.
Disclaimer time - Lest you all think what he's about to respond with is mean and how he must be a real jerk, I must say, that he's totally not. He's a pretty great guy. I would also bet that almost every husband who has a wife and a dishwasher would say the same thing.
OK, back to the story.
So my handy husband would respond, "Well I'll make a deal with you. You stop putting the dishes in without rinsing them, and I'll look at the dishwasher." At which point I'd get irritated because I DO rinse the dishes if they are gross. I don't put them on with lots of food on them. But yes, occasionally, they might not be totally rinsed off. However, what person cleans their dishes to put them in the dishwasher? (If you do, please refrain from commenting on this blog post. Because, 1. You will totally throw me under the bus with my husband. And 2. There is something completely wrong with you and I will call the police and have you arrested for stalking. Or OCD behavior. Or something. . .)
So this same conversation would take place every couple of months.
And yesterday was my breaking point.
Because I could see the gunk all built up in the bottom of the dishwasher. In the part that you have to take apart to get to. And I knew that was abnormal. It looked totally gross. I would have taken a picture for all of you to see, but I didn't want you to be disgusted by the picture and never visit my blog again.
So this morning, shortly after my lovely husband left for work, I tried running a short cycle with vinegar and baking soda to get it all cleaned out. No dice. Nope. It was going to have to come apart.
So I went online and found a wonderful website that showed me how to take it apart. I would tell you what it was, but I've already deleted it out of history so Jamey won't know what I was up to while he was at work. Oopsie. Did I just admit that?
Yep, so anyway, I proceeded to dismantle my entire dishwasher. And when I got the last screw off that held the filter top thingie in place. . .well let's just say I didn't feel so good. It was so gross. And I started cleaning it out and that's when I knew that the people who lived here before me? They NEVER scraped their dishes. Not ONCE. And in fact, they liked to just put EVERYTHING in the dishwasher. Because I found glass. I found stickers. I found pins. And the "piece de resistance" (please say that with a French accent)? CHICKEN BONES. WHOLE CHICKEN BONES. And THAT, my friends, is NOT normal.
So I got it allllllll, cleaned out, including sucking out the water that stayed standing in the bottom of it because it was so clogged up with CRAP. I had to get that out with a turkey baster. Uh huh. It took forEVER.
But I just ran another cycle of dishes through and guess what? MUCH better.
I'm so proud of myself!
Unless it breaks. And then, I don't know how that happened. And if Jamey finds this post and it breaks? Then someone hacked my blog and wrote this.
And again - I have an AWESOME husband. (That part, I TOTALLY wrote.)
Happy Day folks!
PS - I suppose it also doesn't help that I talked about this on Facebook.
PPS - What if those weren't chicken bones after all?
But. . .
1. He is interested and reads it whenever he can. However, he is usually tied up in actually working crazy amounts to try and provide for us so that I can stay home and be here for our son. And that means much more to me than him reading my blog. Plus, it's really me. I can't help it if I find it offensive that he his not hitting his refresh button every 30 seconds to see if I've written anything else. Also -
2. Now I realize that I can totally confess stuff on here and he'll never know! Unless one of my followers who know both of us told him about the stuff I confess. But you wouldn't do that to me. Right? (I so hope all of you are nodding in agreement right now, cos here goes. . .)
I took our dishwasher apart today.
Uh-huh. I surely did.
So we moved into this house almost 4 years ago (sidebar - WOW! Time flies!) And the dishwasher has never really washed dishes all that well. And it just got worse the longer we lived here. Occasionally, I'd ask my very handy husband if he could take a look at it.
OK, hold on a second.
Disclaimer time - Lest you all think what he's about to respond with is mean and how he must be a real jerk, I must say, that he's totally not. He's a pretty great guy. I would also bet that almost every husband who has a wife and a dishwasher would say the same thing.
OK, back to the story.
So my handy husband would respond, "Well I'll make a deal with you. You stop putting the dishes in without rinsing them, and I'll look at the dishwasher." At which point I'd get irritated because I DO rinse the dishes if they are gross. I don't put them on with lots of food on them. But yes, occasionally, they might not be totally rinsed off. However, what person cleans their dishes to put them in the dishwasher? (If you do, please refrain from commenting on this blog post. Because, 1. You will totally throw me under the bus with my husband. And 2. There is something completely wrong with you and I will call the police and have you arrested for stalking. Or OCD behavior. Or something. . .)
So this same conversation would take place every couple of months.
And yesterday was my breaking point.
Because I could see the gunk all built up in the bottom of the dishwasher. In the part that you have to take apart to get to. And I knew that was abnormal. It looked totally gross. I would have taken a picture for all of you to see, but I didn't want you to be disgusted by the picture and never visit my blog again.
So this morning, shortly after my lovely husband left for work, I tried running a short cycle with vinegar and baking soda to get it all cleaned out. No dice. Nope. It was going to have to come apart.
So I went online and found a wonderful website that showed me how to take it apart. I would tell you what it was, but I've already deleted it out of history so Jamey won't know what I was up to while he was at work. Oopsie. Did I just admit that?
Yep, so anyway, I proceeded to dismantle my entire dishwasher. And when I got the last screw off that held the filter top thingie in place. . .well let's just say I didn't feel so good. It was so gross. And I started cleaning it out and that's when I knew that the people who lived here before me? They NEVER scraped their dishes. Not ONCE. And in fact, they liked to just put EVERYTHING in the dishwasher. Because I found glass. I found stickers. I found pins. And the "piece de resistance" (please say that with a French accent)? CHICKEN BONES. WHOLE CHICKEN BONES. And THAT, my friends, is NOT normal.
So I got it allllllll, cleaned out, including sucking out the water that stayed standing in the bottom of it because it was so clogged up with CRAP. I had to get that out with a turkey baster. Uh huh. It took forEVER.
But I just ran another cycle of dishes through and guess what? MUCH better.
I'm so proud of myself!
Unless it breaks. And then, I don't know how that happened. And if Jamey finds this post and it breaks? Then someone hacked my blog and wrote this.
And again - I have an AWESOME husband. (That part, I TOTALLY wrote.)
Happy Day folks!
PS - I suppose it also doesn't help that I talked about this on Facebook.
PPS - What if those weren't chicken bones after all?
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Well Holy Crap. . .I Actually Made - A CRAFT!
Every year Joshua wants me to re-create the same construction paper/cotton ball Santa's beard advent calendar that he had when he was in the one-year old class at his preschool. Yes. You heard me correctly. The ONE-YEAR OLD CLASS (How does he remember this stuff?!?!?! Seriously!!!)
And every year I remake it as best I can. And it's kind of a pain, really, but he so looks forward to having it that I can't say no. I'm such a sucker.
So as he reminded me the other day, it's getting close time to make the calendar. And I got to thinking, wouldn't it be nice if I could make just ONE more, and then use it year after year? (Except that now that I've actually made one that will be reusable year after year, he's going to say he's too big for it. And then I willask Santa to put coal and switches in his stocking cry a lot and tell him how I sustained third degree burns from using the hot glue gun and we are putting it up anyway, and by gosh he WILL like it smile serenely and put it in my bedroom and do it myself.)
Wow. OK, so back to my spectacular craftiness. Which isn't really all that spectacular, but it was the best I could do. If someone actually thinks it's a good idea, I'm sure they'll copycat it, make it totally super cute, post a picture somewhere and then theirs instead of mine will be pinned like 90 million times. And I'll only becompletely a little bitter.
So I headed to the craft store and looked around. I used felt, but now I wonder if that foamy board stuff might have worked a bit better. Take that for what it's worth. I took pictures of how I basically made it, but since I don't normally "craft", I am missing a bunch of steps and I left all kinds of stuff out. But it's not rocket science, folks. I made it.
So the first thing you want to do is buy your supplies. Here's my picture:
The supply list is:
Felt -
1 Red
1 White
1 Pink
2 Green - One of these was a "stiffer" felt.
Some sort of "wire"ribbon
Hot glue gun
Puffy Paint in black and red
Those little puff thingies (100 count white ones - not too big, not too little.)
Velcro - (I bought squares of them and cut them to the size I needed.)
Stapler
Hole Punch
Black fine tip magic marker
I think that's it. As you can tell by my descriptions of things, I definitely lack a craft gene. It really is a miracle I made this at all.
OK. So I used the "stiff" green felt for the backing. Then I cut out a piece of red felt and glued it to the backing like this:
Then I cut out a pink piece shaped like this for the face and glued it on:
Then I cut out a white piece for his beard and glued it on top of the pink:
Then I cut out a little red mouth and a hat shape, as well as a pink nose and glued those on:
After that, I started gluing on the white puffy things. I glued on enough for his hat trim, his hair, his mustache and the start of the beard:
Then I took the Velcro and trimmed them into small pieces. Twenty-four to be exact. I took the rough piece and stuck it to 24 of the puffy things:
Then I placed them on the rest of the beard and spaced them so I'd have the placement nice for the rest of the beard. I'd pick one up and stick the soft side of the Velcro to the white felt:
After that was done, I took my fine tip magic marker and wrote out all the numbers:
I took my second piece of felt and cut a strip about 3 inches wide and stapled it to the top, leaving a gap so that it made a sleeve where I could slide a dowel rod (or something else) through. I hot glued the top pieces together. I made little ribbons out of the wire ribbon and glued them on top of the staples. I'd have taken pictures of all this part, butI got too lazy I forgot.
Then I decided I needed a pocket to hold all the little puffy things till we were ready to use them. I took the rest of the felt and folded it in half and stapled the sides shut. And then I hot glued puffy things along the sides to hide the staples:
I made black puffy paint eyes, and I puffy painted "Christmas Countdown!" on the pocket.
I then slid the dowel through and wrapped it with the wire ribbon to make the hanger.
Then, with my hole punch I punched holes in the top sides of the pockets and at the bottom of the calendar. I took my wire ribbon and strung it through so that the pocket is now hanging down from the bottom of the calendar. And here is the finished product!
And every year I remake it as best I can. And it's kind of a pain, really, but he so looks forward to having it that I can't say no. I'm such a sucker.
So as he reminded me the other day, it's getting close time to make the calendar. And I got to thinking, wouldn't it be nice if I could make just ONE more, and then use it year after year? (Except that now that I've actually made one that will be reusable year after year, he's going to say he's too big for it. And then I will
Wow. OK, so back to my spectacular craftiness. Which isn't really all that spectacular, but it was the best I could do. If someone actually thinks it's a good idea, I'm sure they'll copycat it, make it totally super cute, post a picture somewhere and then theirs instead of mine will be pinned like 90 million times. And I'll only be
So I headed to the craft store and looked around. I used felt, but now I wonder if that foamy board stuff might have worked a bit better. Take that for what it's worth. I took pictures of how I basically made it, but since I don't normally "craft", I am missing a bunch of steps and I left all kinds of stuff out. But it's not rocket science, folks. I made it.
So the first thing you want to do is buy your supplies. Here's my picture:
The supply list is:
Felt -
1 Red
1 White
1 Pink
2 Green - One of these was a "stiffer" felt.
Some sort of "wire"ribbon
Hot glue gun
Puffy Paint in black and red
Those little puff thingies (100 count white ones - not too big, not too little.)
Velcro - (I bought squares of them and cut them to the size I needed.)
Stapler
Hole Punch
Black fine tip magic marker
I think that's it. As you can tell by my descriptions of things, I definitely lack a craft gene. It really is a miracle I made this at all.
OK. So I used the "stiff" green felt for the backing. Then I cut out a piece of red felt and glued it to the backing like this:
Then I cut out a pink piece shaped like this for the face and glued it on:
Then I cut out a white piece for his beard and glued it on top of the pink:
Then I cut out a little red mouth and a hat shape, as well as a pink nose and glued those on:
After that, I started gluing on the white puffy things. I glued on enough for his hat trim, his hair, his mustache and the start of the beard:
Then I took the Velcro and trimmed them into small pieces. Twenty-four to be exact. I took the rough piece and stuck it to 24 of the puffy things:
Then I placed them on the rest of the beard and spaced them so I'd have the placement nice for the rest of the beard. I'd pick one up and stick the soft side of the Velcro to the white felt:
After that was done, I took my fine tip magic marker and wrote out all the numbers:
I took my second piece of felt and cut a strip about 3 inches wide and stapled it to the top, leaving a gap so that it made a sleeve where I could slide a dowel rod (or something else) through. I hot glued the top pieces together. I made little ribbons out of the wire ribbon and glued them on top of the staples. I'd have taken pictures of all this part, but
Then I decided I needed a pocket to hold all the little puffy things till we were ready to use them. I took the rest of the felt and folded it in half and stapled the sides shut. And then I hot glued puffy things along the sides to hide the staples:
I made black puffy paint eyes, and I puffy painted "Christmas Countdown!" on the pocket.
I then slid the dowel through and wrapped it with the wire ribbon to make the hanger.
Then, with my hole punch I punched holes in the top sides of the pockets and at the bottom of the calendar. I took my wire ribbon and strung it through so that the pocket is now hanging down from the bottom of the calendar. And here is the finished product!
The one thing I regret is not having Joshua help me. I wished I had, because it would have made it more special. But frankly, I had no idea what I was doing. 'Nuff said on that.
Also, if you are someone reading this who has a craft product and you want me to test it out, I will forwarn you. I am NOT crafty. And you may regret asking me to try your product. Just sayin'.
And one more thing. I know I did not do a great job at explaining the steps here, and I more than likely (well no. I'm sure I did) left a bunch of steps out. So if you have questions, feel free to ask. Unless you think it's ugly, in which case you are not nice to make fun of craft challenged people like me and you should really kiss my ass be ashamed of yourself for making fun of a normally uncrafty gal who's trying to make her little boy happy.
Happy Day, folks!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
MARATHON! I DID IT! And. . .Dear God, Please Don't Let Me Look Like An Idiot In My Race Picutres (like I usually do). Thx.
Well if you have been wondering where I've been the last month. . .
I have been running (sorry mom) my ass off. Seriously. It's not there anymore. OK, well it is, but it is smaller than it was.
If you remember, back in June, I told you all I had signed up for the marathon. And I've been training. And training. And the miles have been getting longer. And longer. Our longest run was a 20 mile run. That's far.
But not 26.2 miles. Which is what we all did Saturday. And let me tell you. Your race doesn't even begin until you finish that first 20. The last 6.2? That's where the race starts.
Oh yes, my friends. THAT is where it starts.
So Saturday November 12, I woke up at o'dark thirty. I had been downing Vitamin C like it wascrack candy since I had to substitute teach a bunch of germy darling preschoolers. (I do really love them all. They are great kids. But let's face it. Preschoolers at this time of year? Germfest.) But I digress. . .I got up with Jamey and we left the house at about 5:45am. For a race that started at - 8am. Why you ask? I'll tell you. Whether you wanted to know or not. It was because, I being the paranoid freak that I am, was afraid we wouldn't get a parking spot.
So we got downtown and Jamey drove past all the shmucks who were paying for parking and drove right underneath his building where parking was free and no one knew about it. It was awesome. We had decided to use his office as a warm and cozy place to hang out until race time. And I must say, it was quite lovely! My friends, Kara and Polly, got there shortly after, and we all hung out. I ate my ritual of a toasted peanut butter pita pocket, got to use a real bathroom instead of a port a potty, and before I knew it, it was time to go up to the start.
My friends and I all walked up and stood around in the cold for about 5 minutes and then we were off and running! I have to say, for the first 7-8 miles, I thought if I could stay feeling the way I was feeling then, I'd have a stellar day.
And I must remind you that I had a few goals for this marathon.
1. I did not want to stop and walk. I wanted to run the whole way and not bonk.
2. I wanted to get anything under a 4:45. If I could get under 4:30, I'd go crazy at the finish.
3. I did not want to look like a raving lunatic in my race photos this time.
Rule three was pretty much broken right away, unfortunately. See we were rounding a corner, and there was a band playing, and it was early on, and I was all hyped up. And so unfortunately, I believe a photographer caught me in my "old form". You know. The one where I'm not running with a super cute pony tail and smiling serenely for the camera? Right. The other one is how he caught me. Where I'm waving my hands all around and screaming and looking at the camera with a crazed look on my face. Sigh. I will post my pictures when they come out to show you.
And so my second rule - I had amended it during training. See if you remember, Jamey ran the marathon last year. And he didn't have his very best day, truth be told. I'm still totally proud of him, but he made a fatal mistake. Because my pace has been very consistent through all my training. And it put me within striking distance of his time from last year, which was a 4:13:35. So I had made it my extra super secret goal - to beat him.
I knew it would only be possible if 1. I were having a stellar day, and 2. if someone ran me in. And who better to run me in than the person I was trying to beat, right? Uh-huh. And he didn't know about my goal.
So I was running. Felt great, and ended up losing my lovely friends I had trained with around mile 7.5. We knew it was a possibility and had made the deal that we would all run our own race. And I knew if I waited for them, I wouldn't make my goal. So when one of them stepped to the side to go to the bathroom, I kept going.
And I still felt great. I ran along and grabbed a handful of pretzels that someone was handing out (THANK YOU, to whoever you are - they were delicious!), and kept on and kept on. And then somewhere around mile 15 or so, I started feeling. . .not as great.
If you are a marathoner, then you know (and some of you who aren't may still know) that this is not good. Because "the wall", the point you hit and start to get tired and worn out, isn't until mile 20. They literally call that "the wall". Yep. And I hit it at 15. But I kept running. Because I knew in about 3 more miles, I'd meet up with Jamey. And maybe he could help me out.
I actually sped up and ran to find him. And when I did, I was worn out. I was hurting. He asked how I was. I said I was doing crappy or something like that. And he asked what he could do. So I said, "Talk. Just talk. I might not say anything back, but I just need you to talk to me." You know. To get my mind off the fact that I wanted to lay down on the lovely black asphalt and die. Quickly.
And so he talked. I would like to tell you a lot of what he said, but honestly? I am not even sure. I know I listened. I remember nodding a lot. And saying "yes". And not much else. The sad part for him is, he could have asked me if he could buy a brand new Porsche that day, and I'd have said "yes". So actually, I guess I better not be surprised if one shows up in my driveway.
I was tired. My legs were cramping. I wanted to stop so very badly at mile 25. And at that point, I knew that whether Jamey was there or not, I had to keep going, because I would never forgive myself for being so close and stopping. So I slowed down. WAY down. It was the only mile I went out of the 9's and I clocked a 10:17 mile. And finally at one point, I looked over at Jamey, my wonderful, gorgeous husband, and said, "STOP TALKING." He was like "Got it." And he did stop talking. Which was good because otherwise I might haveupchucked on him and then killed him with my bare hands been very angry.
But then God smiled down on me. Because shortly after that, we turned a corner. And I could see it. The FINISH LINE.
And Jamey started screaming at me, "RUN! RUN CAROLYN!!!!" And I screamed back, "I love you!" And I took off! And I ran for all it was worth and crossed the line! I looked down at my watch, and I had. . .
DONE IT!!! I BEAT JAMEY'S TIME!!!! My watch said 4:12:48. Later the chip time - which is the "official" time, said I completed the race in 4:12:35. I had beaten my lovely husband by exactly one minute.
He's super proud of me too.
I must say a special thanks to a nameless medic who helped me out after I stopped. Because after I stopped, I was very woozy. He came right up to me and asked if I needed assistance. And I couldn't even talk. I just nodded, and he grabbed me firmly by the shoulders as I wavered around a little bit. He put one of those lovely foil blankets around me and then I put the death grips on his hands because I was afraid he was going to let go of me and I would keel right over in the finish area.
Then he said, "Let's go get you a medal." And I nodded and he walked me over (still holding on to me), and as the other man put that beautiful medal around my neck, I leaned against both of them. And sobbed.
I was in a lot of pain. But it was totally worth it. Happy Day, my friends.
PS - Brightroom just posted their pictures. In a word? Sigh. But I did promise to post them. They even have a video of my finish. See them here.
PPS - Someone else took a picture of me where I actually kind of look like a badass. I like it much better.
I have been running (sorry mom) my ass off. Seriously. It's not there anymore. OK, well it is, but it is smaller than it was.
If you remember, back in June, I told you all I had signed up for the marathon. And I've been training. And training. And the miles have been getting longer. And longer. Our longest run was a 20 mile run. That's far.
But not 26.2 miles. Which is what we all did Saturday. And let me tell you. Your race doesn't even begin until you finish that first 20. The last 6.2? That's where the race starts.
Oh yes, my friends. THAT is where it starts.
So Saturday November 12, I woke up at o'dark thirty. I had been downing Vitamin C like it was
So we got downtown and Jamey drove past all the shmucks who were paying for parking and drove right underneath his building where parking was free and no one knew about it. It was awesome. We had decided to use his office as a warm and cozy place to hang out until race time. And I must say, it was quite lovely! My friends, Kara and Polly, got there shortly after, and we all hung out. I ate my ritual of a toasted peanut butter pita pocket, got to use a real bathroom instead of a port a potty, and before I knew it, it was time to go up to the start.
My friends and I all walked up and stood around in the cold for about 5 minutes and then we were off and running! I have to say, for the first 7-8 miles, I thought if I could stay feeling the way I was feeling then, I'd have a stellar day.
And I must remind you that I had a few goals for this marathon.
1. I did not want to stop and walk. I wanted to run the whole way and not bonk.
2. I wanted to get anything under a 4:45. If I could get under 4:30, I'd go crazy at the finish.
3. I did not want to look like a raving lunatic in my race photos this time.
Rule three was pretty much broken right away, unfortunately. See we were rounding a corner, and there was a band playing, and it was early on, and I was all hyped up. And so unfortunately, I believe a photographer caught me in my "old form". You know. The one where I'm not running with a super cute pony tail and smiling serenely for the camera? Right. The other one is how he caught me. Where I'm waving my hands all around and screaming and looking at the camera with a crazed look on my face. Sigh. I will post my pictures when they come out to show you.
And so my second rule - I had amended it during training. See if you remember, Jamey ran the marathon last year. And he didn't have his very best day, truth be told. I'm still totally proud of him, but he made a fatal mistake. Because my pace has been very consistent through all my training. And it put me within striking distance of his time from last year, which was a 4:13:35. So I had made it my extra super secret goal - to beat him.
I knew it would only be possible if 1. I were having a stellar day, and 2. if someone ran me in. And who better to run me in than the person I was trying to beat, right? Uh-huh. And he didn't know about my goal.
So I was running. Felt great, and ended up losing my lovely friends I had trained with around mile 7.5. We knew it was a possibility and had made the deal that we would all run our own race. And I knew if I waited for them, I wouldn't make my goal. So when one of them stepped to the side to go to the bathroom, I kept going.
And I still felt great. I ran along and grabbed a handful of pretzels that someone was handing out (THANK YOU, to whoever you are - they were delicious!), and kept on and kept on. And then somewhere around mile 15 or so, I started feeling. . .not as great.
If you are a marathoner, then you know (and some of you who aren't may still know) that this is not good. Because "the wall", the point you hit and start to get tired and worn out, isn't until mile 20. They literally call that "the wall". Yep. And I hit it at 15. But I kept running. Because I knew in about 3 more miles, I'd meet up with Jamey. And maybe he could help me out.
I actually sped up and ran to find him. And when I did, I was worn out. I was hurting. He asked how I was. I said I was doing crappy or something like that. And he asked what he could do. So I said, "Talk. Just talk. I might not say anything back, but I just need you to talk to me." You know. To get my mind off the fact that I wanted to lay down on the lovely black asphalt and die. Quickly.
And so he talked. I would like to tell you a lot of what he said, but honestly? I am not even sure. I know I listened. I remember nodding a lot. And saying "yes". And not much else. The sad part for him is, he could have asked me if he could buy a brand new Porsche that day, and I'd have said "yes". So actually, I guess I better not be surprised if one shows up in my driveway.
I was tired. My legs were cramping. I wanted to stop so very badly at mile 25. And at that point, I knew that whether Jamey was there or not, I had to keep going, because I would never forgive myself for being so close and stopping. So I slowed down. WAY down. It was the only mile I went out of the 9's and I clocked a 10:17 mile. And finally at one point, I looked over at Jamey, my wonderful, gorgeous husband, and said, "STOP TALKING." He was like "Got it." And he did stop talking. Which was good because otherwise I might have
But then God smiled down on me. Because shortly after that, we turned a corner. And I could see it. The FINISH LINE.
And Jamey started screaming at me, "RUN! RUN CAROLYN!!!!" And I screamed back, "I love you!" And I took off! And I ran for all it was worth and crossed the line! I looked down at my watch, and I had. . .
DONE IT!!! I BEAT JAMEY'S TIME!!!! My watch said 4:12:48. Later the chip time - which is the "official" time, said I completed the race in 4:12:35. I had beaten my lovely husband by exactly one minute.
He's super proud of me too.
I must say a special thanks to a nameless medic who helped me out after I stopped. Because after I stopped, I was very woozy. He came right up to me and asked if I needed assistance. And I couldn't even talk. I just nodded, and he grabbed me firmly by the shoulders as I wavered around a little bit. He put one of those lovely foil blankets around me and then I put the death grips on his hands because I was afraid he was going to let go of me and I would keel right over in the finish area.
Then he said, "Let's go get you a medal." And I nodded and he walked me over (still holding on to me), and as the other man put that beautiful medal around my neck, I leaned against both of them. And sobbed.
I was in a lot of pain. But it was totally worth it. Happy Day, my friends.
PS - Brightroom just posted their pictures. In a word? Sigh. But I did promise to post them. They even have a video of my finish. See them here.
PPS - Someone else took a picture of me where I actually kind of look like a badass. I like it much better.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Well CRAP. My Son Now Knows Chuck E. Cheese Is NOT a "Grown Up Restaurant".
Thanks to my neighbor, Angela, who's son had his birthday party there.
And yes. I totally lied to Joshua about it. He asked me once when we were driving by what Chuck E. Cheese was. And I was all, like, "Oh that? It's a restaurant. For grownups." And he was all like, "Oh." End of story. So I thought.
A few months ago, he asked me why PBS was sponsored by Chuck E. Cheese. And why it always said, "Where a kid can be a kid." It caught me off guard. So I said it was a really lame advertising campaign. Then I told him to go play. And since Joshua doesn't even know what an advertising campaign is, he did, in fact, go play and dropped it. Safe again.
Then we get the invitation to the party.
And I'm all like, "WHAT? That's odd. I guess I was wrong. I guess kids can go there." And Joshua asks, "Can I go?" I am thinking as fast as I can, but since the invitation caught me off guard, I can't come up with anything. So I'm all like, "Uh, yeah. Sure." Then I walk into the kitchen tobeat my head against the wall and sob make myself a cup of coffee.
The day comes and we go, and of course he loves it. And I'm commiserating with other moms about being there when another friend, Brenna tells me my next wonderful excuse not to frequent Chuck E. Cheese every single weekend. She tells her own son that Chuck E. Cheese is only open for birthday parties. Perfect. Thank you Brenna - problem solved!
And so guess where Joshua wants his next birthday party?
I leave you with the following - I posted it on Facebook. Along with an update a couple of hours later:
And yes. I totally lied to Joshua about it. He asked me once when we were driving by what Chuck E. Cheese was. And I was all, like, "Oh that? It's a restaurant. For grownups." And he was all like, "Oh." End of story. So I thought.
A few months ago, he asked me why PBS was sponsored by Chuck E. Cheese. And why it always said, "Where a kid can be a kid." It caught me off guard. So I said it was a really lame advertising campaign. Then I told him to go play. And since Joshua doesn't even know what an advertising campaign is, he did, in fact, go play and dropped it. Safe again.
Then we get the invitation to the party.
And I'm all like, "WHAT? That's odd. I guess I was wrong. I guess kids can go there." And Joshua asks, "Can I go?" I am thinking as fast as I can, but since the invitation caught me off guard, I can't come up with anything. So I'm all like, "Uh, yeah. Sure." Then I walk into the kitchen to
The day comes and we go, and of course he loves it. And I'm commiserating with other moms about being there when another friend, Brenna tells me my next wonderful excuse not to frequent Chuck E. Cheese every single weekend. She tells her own son that Chuck E. Cheese is only open for birthday parties. Perfect. Thank you Brenna - problem solved!
And so guess where Joshua wants his next birthday party?
I leave you with the following - I posted it on Facebook. Along with an update a couple of hours later:
Thursday, October 20, 2011
I Have NO WillPower. Please Help Me!
So if you remember, I have been training for a marathon, right? Training has gone really well, and I'm on the cusp of my last super long run before the actual race. It's a 20 miler on Saturday.
In light of training for a marathon, I decided it was also time to shed a few pounds. I'd gotten away with eating what I wanted for a long time without worrying about it, but when we got back from Disney World and I looked at the pictures of myself, I just thought. . .well, frankly I just thought. EW. That's gross. And doughy looking.
So I started watching what I ate and stuff and I'm excited because I have managed to lose a bit of weight. Cool, right? It is really cool. I've been feeling much better.
And then, with one little Facebook post, my entire world changed. And I'm in danger. SERIOUS danger.
Because of THESE:
Yes, these naughty LIMITED EDITION PUMPKIN PIE POPTARTS.
I first heard of them last year. However, I thought they were a myth. I never saw them in the grocery store. So I figured I had heard wrong, and went about my happy life.
Then this year, I heard about them again. From a post on Facebook. Surely that was still just a myth, right? A fable? And all of a sudden, I was scared. I had to go to the grocery store the very next day. So I said a little prayer to God asking him to not have them in my store. And bless me he did, for when I went the next day, they were not there! I was SAVED! And I said as much on Facebook.
And then my "friend", Jana, had to go and tell me that if I had, in fact, TURNED AROUND and looked across from where the regular poptart selection is, they had a WHOLE SECTION DEDICATED TO LIMITED EDITION HOLIDAY POPTARTS.
OH. MY. GOD.
It is unfair.
I tried to resist. I didn't go back to the store.
Until today. And I had to do it. I couldn't help it. I walked down the aisle where the poptarts were, and I swear I tried to avoid making eye contact. I really did. I looked to my left the whole time where the regular poptarts resided. But then it happened. I turned to my right. AND THERE THEY WERE.
I tried to justify it, and say they were for my little boy. But I am not fooling anyone. And now they are at home. And we are locked in a brutal, take no prisoner style staring contest. Me and the Poptart box. And I think I'm losing.
See?
I swear I don't know how the box got open. I think maybe Quincy developed opposable thumbs while I wasn't looking. And somehow, a package of the poptarts fell out onto the table. And now they are playing the staring game with me. . .
Uh oh. Losing again.
Oh gosh. Did that bag just open by itself? I think the box of poptarts is haunted.
I'm just going to smell one.
Yep. Smells good. Had to bite my lip to try not to take a bite.
No. I'm not going to do this.
See? I'm keeping my lips shut tight! NO WAY. I'M NOT CAVING.
OK. Maybe a teeeeeeeny bite.
See how little a bite that is?
Setting it down. Let the staredown begin again. I'm TOTALLY going to win this.
Sigh. It won.
Happy Doughy Day, Folks!
PS - In case you were wondering, from the moment the box came into the house to that last picture was a duration of 37.2 seconds. Yup. 37.2 seconds. . .
PPS - In order to protect theguilty innocent, I will not be posting a picture of how many packages are left in the poptart box after 37.2 seconds.
In light of training for a marathon, I decided it was also time to shed a few pounds. I'd gotten away with eating what I wanted for a long time without worrying about it, but when we got back from Disney World and I looked at the pictures of myself, I just thought. . .well, frankly I just thought. EW. That's gross. And doughy looking.
So I started watching what I ate and stuff and I'm excited because I have managed to lose a bit of weight. Cool, right? It is really cool. I've been feeling much better.
And then, with one little Facebook post, my entire world changed. And I'm in danger. SERIOUS danger.
Because of THESE:
Yes, these naughty LIMITED EDITION PUMPKIN PIE POPTARTS.
I first heard of them last year. However, I thought they were a myth. I never saw them in the grocery store. So I figured I had heard wrong, and went about my happy life.
Then this year, I heard about them again. From a post on Facebook. Surely that was still just a myth, right? A fable? And all of a sudden, I was scared. I had to go to the grocery store the very next day. So I said a little prayer to God asking him to not have them in my store. And bless me he did, for when I went the next day, they were not there! I was SAVED! And I said as much on Facebook.
And then my "friend", Jana, had to go and tell me that if I had, in fact, TURNED AROUND and looked across from where the regular poptart selection is, they had a WHOLE SECTION DEDICATED TO LIMITED EDITION HOLIDAY POPTARTS.
OH. MY. GOD.
It is unfair.
I tried to resist. I didn't go back to the store.
Until today. And I had to do it. I couldn't help it. I walked down the aisle where the poptarts were, and I swear I tried to avoid making eye contact. I really did. I looked to my left the whole time where the regular poptarts resided. But then it happened. I turned to my right. AND THERE THEY WERE.
I tried to justify it, and say they were for my little boy. But I am not fooling anyone. And now they are at home. And we are locked in a brutal, take no prisoner style staring contest. Me and the Poptart box. And I think I'm losing.
See?
I swear I don't know how the box got open. I think maybe Quincy developed opposable thumbs while I wasn't looking. And somehow, a package of the poptarts fell out onto the table. And now they are playing the staring game with me. . .
Uh oh. Losing again.
Oh gosh. Did that bag just open by itself? I think the box of poptarts is haunted.
I'm just going to smell one.
Yep. Smells good. Had to bite my lip to try not to take a bite.
No. I'm not going to do this.
See? I'm keeping my lips shut tight! NO WAY. I'M NOT CAVING.
OK. Maybe a teeeeeeeny bite.
See how little a bite that is?
Setting it down. Let the staredown begin again. I'm TOTALLY going to win this.
Sigh. It won.
Happy Doughy Day, Folks!
PS - In case you were wondering, from the moment the box came into the house to that last picture was a duration of 37.2 seconds. Yup. 37.2 seconds. . .
PPS - In order to protect the
Friday, September 16, 2011
This is How I Amuse Myself
So I have an eye appointment today. And I had to fill out my paperwork online. The following are some of the questions and my actual answers. It just lets me know if they are really reading the information that we provide them. Plus, I just like to amuse myself, because filling out forms can be excrutiatingly boring. . .
Requested: Routine Exam, 09/16/2011
For: To help Roxann make some money. And to get my eyes checked.
Comments: Roxann, you better not be late, because I have to be home to get my little boy off the school bus. If I'm late, I'm bringing him straight to your house and you can deal with the stress and anxiety while I go to Starbucks. Or a bar. And I don't know when I'll be back. Maybe by Tuesday.
Date Sent: 09/15/2011 1:08:41pm
Name: Mrs. Carolyn Y. Davidson
Nickname: "HRH Princess Carolyn"
Occupation/Grade: Domestic Goddess and Honest to Gosh Princess
Employer: Joshua
How did you find us? Friend or Relative, Referred by: My crazy father and mom Don and Louise Y. (need I say more?)
Last Eye Exam: Look at my chart and it will tell you.
Do you have any allergies to medications? Yes. Allergic to: SEVERE CT Dye allergy. Don't ever give me that or I'll die. Then I will proceed to haunt you forever for doing that.
Further explanation or more conditions: Itching and if I don't stay on allergy medicine, my eyes swell up, sometimes particularly after I eat. They look TERRIBLE.
I also have exercise induced asthma, so my parents don't think I should ever exercise again. I'm ignoring this bit of advice from them. Otherwise, I'd be as big as a house. . .
I didn't put any pyschiatric problems,although I think others would say that's debatable. Especially all the other voices in my head right now.
See? Makes for much more interesting reading for my health care team.
Happy Day folks!
********
Requested: Routine Exam, 09/16/2011
For: To help Roxann make some money. And to get my eyes checked.
Comments: Roxann, you better not be late, because I have to be home to get my little boy off the school bus. If I'm late, I'm bringing him straight to your house and you can deal with the stress and anxiety while I go to Starbucks. Or a bar. And I don't know when I'll be back. Maybe by Tuesday.
Date Sent: 09/15/2011 1:08:41pm
Name: Mrs. Carolyn Y. Davidson
Nickname: "HRH Princess Carolyn"
Occupation/Grade: Domestic Goddess and Honest to Gosh Princess
Employer: Joshua
How did you find us? Friend or Relative, Referred by: My crazy father and mom Don and Louise Y. (need I say more?)
Last Eye Exam: Look at my chart and it will tell you.
Do you have any allergies to medications? Yes. Allergic to: SEVERE CT Dye allergy. Don't ever give me that or I'll die. Then I will proceed to haunt you forever for doing that.
Further explanation or more conditions: Itching and if I don't stay on allergy medicine, my eyes swell up, sometimes particularly after I eat. They look TERRIBLE.
I also have exercise induced asthma, so my parents don't think I should ever exercise again. I'm ignoring this bit of advice from them. Otherwise, I'd be as big as a house. . .
I didn't put any pyschiatric problems,although I think others would say that's debatable. Especially all the other voices in my head right now.
********
See? Makes for much more interesting reading for my health care team.
Happy Day folks!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)