The Turkey Trot

I did it. I ran the Turkey Trot, five whole miles in under one hour.

Granted, I barely slept for two days because I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to do it, but once I started running the adrenaline and the training kicked in. The weather cooperated, if it had rained or been any colder I am not sure how well I would have fared. Also, running the hills last week really helped. It gave me an idea of how the course was and once I made it over that last hill I knew that I could keep going. Mare (by best friend and running partner) stayed together and we had a nice pace going. I don't think I would have been able to even attempt this goal if I didn't have her to run with me.

I will tell you that the last mile was tough and at one point I couldn't figure out why these really fit looking kids in Cross Country uniforms were standing by the side of the course, that is until it dawned on me that these guys had already finished, hadn't actually stopped and in fact had just come back to wait for other people.

With about a half a mile to go we saw Mare's husband and her oldest kid on the side of the course with the camera. Let me tell you that gave me much more motivation then the random cow bell ringers and the bagpipers. When we finally rounded into the straight away we saw her twins, her dad, and her brother (who had also run the race and had finished a good 10-15 minutes before us). Then just a bit beyond them I saw the Lady all bundled up in her pink hat in her carriage with my husband, my dad and my little sister it was then we decided to sprint to the finish. It seemed like a good idea to finish strong, not so much when there was a quick second after we crossed the finish line that I thought I might puke. Luckily that didn't happen, although my sister said that someone had done just that in front of them not too many minutes before we made our way by.

Mare and I on the long stretch to the finish.

I can't remember running that far in a row ever, and now that I know I can do it I feel a little less

inhibited. I feel like I can accomplish goals that I set for myself and that is a good feeling. Will I start training for the NYC Marathon? Probably not, but will I continue to run? Yes, and I hope I can go farther and faster.

I just want to thank my friend Bill for all his advice and support. Thanks Bill!

The Turkey Trotters and the kids. (Yes, all three of those are Mare's)

Happy Thanksgiving

I just wanted to thank you all for reading (and commenting) on my blog. I hope that everybody had a happy and healthy Thanksgiving and are recovering nicely from either their hangover, food coma or too much family time!

The Lady spent her second Thanksgiving at both grandparents, ate primarily crackers and cookies, and spent a large part of the day meowing. She loves making animal sounds.

Just wanted to include two verses of a timeless Turkey Day song (by request). Enjoy.

Happy Happy Turkey Day
Happy Happy Turkey Day
Happy Happy Turkey Day
Happy Turkey Day

Happy Happy Pumpkin Pie
Happy Happy Pumpkin Pie
Happy Happy Pumpkin Pie
Happy Turkey Day

The Biggest Loser and Other Updates

Amy, Amy, Amy, I told you so. Hey, I don't like to say it but had you eliminated Vicky last week you would have been saved this week. Granted, maybe you wouldn't have fallen beneath the yellow line, but the black team would have been your ally. You were a bit too naive to even consider trusting that black hearted game player and now you are home with no one to blame but yourself.

We are getting close to the end here. I was so excited to see both Michelle and Renee put up big numbers to stay this week, but unless two more blue fall below the yellow line next week, I think one of them will be leaving.

Not too much excitement this week. It is always good to see Steve Young, but if Vicky told me one more time how much she loves football so she deserves to win everything I think I might have punched the TV. Why is she still around? Why?

The best part about the elimination room was when Ed justified voting for Amy because he is married to Heba. Again, I don't like to stereotype him as some Southern rube, but if the moonshine is wet, well drink it.

The Turkey Trot

The big race is tomorrow and I am getting pretty nervous. I ran the first mile of hills yesterday and I wouldn't say it was easy, but at least we get them out of the way at the beginning. I checked out the rest of the route as well and it seems kind of long but I am hoping that the surge of the 1500 other runners will actually just push me along until I finish.

I was excited to pick up my official number #885 and get my first race t-shirt. The weather is supposed to be pretty good, sunny and in the low 40's. I am just hoping I don't puke, trip, or step in too much goose poo. The Lady and my husband are supposed to meet me at the finish line with big smiles and a camera. I will post the pics and let you know how it goes. Wish me luck!

The Novel

The novel has taken a back seat to life this week. I am over 20,000 words in, but unless some sort of explosion of words happens in the next few days, I don't think I will make the 50,000 by Sunday. I am going to try to get as much done as I can but between Turkey Day, meeting up with friends, a photo shoot on Friday night and celebrating my brother's 30th on Saturday, I might not get a lot of writing done. We will see.

Everybody Loves a Parade?

Yesterday we did something as a family. We hit the downtown Stamford Holiday parade in the freezing cold. The Lady passed out in the car on our way and slept through parking, putting her in the carriage, walking three blocks, the beginning of the parade and a police motorcycle motorcade complete with sirens and lights.



When the first balloon came into site. We woke her up. It took her a minute or two to get adjusted to what she was seeing, but by the time Big Bird made his way down she was waving.




Did I mention it was freezing? We packed it up after Elmo made his way down the road, about an hour into the parade. I figured skipping Santa was no big deal, considering she has no idea who he is. We spent the rest of the day hanging out with my sister who is home from college, then going over to my brother's to watch the Giants. I made some chili, my first attempt. I thought it turned out pretty good. The Lady, however, was feeling the effects of a shortened nap. Little Miss Cranky Pants was not so good. Luckily she went right to sleep when we got home.

Daily Disasters

Here is a photo of the Lady "helping" with the laundry.

I am sitting at home waiting for the cable guy. They are supposed to come between 8 and 11 and if they don't come before 11, I am supposed to call them. We have a pixel problem with the TV where the picture and sound cut out. It is highly annoying. Normally, I wouldn't mind waiting around. The Lady and I have no real plans for the day, however, we are now out of diapers.

The Lady had a two diaper poo. I was premature in going in and changing it. She obviously wasn't done. When I checked the closet for more diapers there were none left, none under the changing table and only one in the diaper bag. She is wearing that sole diaper now, as she roams the house in nothing but it, sticking her finger into baby lotion tasting it and going mmmm. . .

I will dress her before the cable guy comes and try to distract her with some crayons.

Grey's

Is anybody out there watching Grey's Anatomy? Why am I wasting my time watching Izzy have a sexual relationship with her dead fiance that she never even dated outside of the hospital? It is just weird and why aren't those Interns going to jail? Isn't it illegal to perform surgery on someone without passing some sort of test?

Also, where has George been? It looks like he pops in for like three lines each episode. I don't know, I do love the over the top soap operatic behavior of the show but are we jumping the shark here?

One last thing did they seriously do a poop transplant? Look, if you didn't know already you know now, I love poop jokes, but really a poop transplant? Did you see Alex mixing it up on the table? Gross.

Just venting (and procrastinating) if anybody watches feel free to comment.

Procrastination

I am trying to write my novel, but as always I find myself getting up every ten minutes for a glass of water or spotting something that needs to be wiped, picked up, or put away from across the room and have to remedy that situation right away before I can continue.

The novel is coming along. Am I going to get to 50,000 by next Sunday? If I stop blogging and cleaning--maybe. I also have the problem that every once in a while I have to check something on the Internet, it is research really, I will just pull up a fact or check a word definition, but each time I do that I have to stop and check my e-mail, peruse a few top stories and check out what is going on in the world around me. For example the movie Twilight pulled in over 70 mil. this weekend. Yeah to teenage girls and vampire lovers. Even though I always think the book is better than the movie, I also love to see readers who love their books follow them to the box office.

The other bit of news that caught my attention was this article about the space station, Astronauts tinker with urine-to-water machine, yes you read that right. Urine-to-water machine. They drink their own converted pee. Check it out. I thought it was definitely worth a read even though I am a thousand words short of my goal for tonight.

Perhaps some of you read this blog as a bit of procrastination in your own day. I appreciate it

Really Ashlee Simpson? Really?

Ashlee Simpson why? Why did you have to join the long line of celebrity parents who feel that the only way their child can be unique and special is if they have the worst name ever.


I love the birth of a baby. It is awesome and crazy and parenthood is filled with really, really good days and ones you just wish would end. I would like to think that I would never judge Ashlee on her parenting skills because today the Lady watched too much TV and I gave her like 15 hundred crackers. But she named him. . . Bronx Mowgli. WTF?


First of all Bronx? Have you been there lately Ashlee? It is no Brooklyn, an equally ridiculous kid name but one that works much better for the Beckham's than Bronx will work for you. Was he conceived there? And if so, I would actually like to hear that story, but I digress. Here are a few reasons why Bronx is a terrible name for your kid.


1. Nobody says just Bronx when they talk. Everyone says The Bronx. If I stopped someone on the street and said "Where is Yankee Stadium?" Everyone who answered me would say The Bronx. If I asked where Shea Stadium was everyone would just say Queens. It just flat out sounds wrong.


2. Nothing really rhymes with Bronx. When you are a mom you are required to know songs to sing to your kid. You are also required to fit their name into the song wherever possible and if it rhymes all the better. What rhymes with Bronx? Sconce? How many kid songs are about interior decorations Ashlee? How many?

3. Bronx Wentz is hard to say. Repeat it to yourself three times in a row. I guarantee you will get tongue tied. God forbid the kid has a lisp.

4. His middle name is Mowgli. I love the Jungle Book too, but you would have been better off actually naming him Mowgli or just making his middle name Kipling. Why not give him a middle name that is sort of normal so if he decides later in life he doesn't want to go by Bronx, he could at least fall back on his middle name?.

Ashlee, your life is about to change, you have already made one bad parenting decision and I am sure you (like the rest of us) will make many more. So all I can say is good luck to you, Pete and The Bronx.

Other Awful Celebrity Baby Names

Pilot Inspektor
Kal-El Cage
Moxie CrimeFighter Jillette
Zuma Nesta Rock Rossdale
Suri Cruise
Hermes (not sure of his last name but his mom is on Gossip Girls)
Apple and Moses Martin

Back to Work?

As you may imagine it is tough being the money saving mom sometimes, especially when you have no money to save. The Bean and The Bear had a paying job this week, which was great. It wasn't the best environment, (inside at 5:30 p.m. with a four year old, a one year old, and a two month old), and even though not everyone cooperated at the same time we got some great shots.

The thing is, I feel like I have been making progress in a lot of my goals so far. The running is coming along and some of the weight is coming off. The novel is at least being looked at, even though it isn't close to 50,000 words yet, and I am writing almost everyday on the blog. The problem is training for a Turkey Trot, writing a novel and blogging doesn't really pull in a giant salary. I think that my Feng Shui might be off. Perhaps the career/finances area of my home is literally my toilet. Anyway, a while ago, I told you that I signed up with a temp agency who places "creative" talent in temp positions. Yesterday, I got my first call.

I always hated starting a new job. The learning curve is always just a pain in the ass. You have to ask a million questions, get people to talk to you, figure out where the bathroom is and how long you can linger at lunch. Being in a temp position has its benefits, the number one benefit is knowing you won't be in that position for long. However, I was nervous this morning walking into the unknown. It is always a bit scary, especially since I haven't worked in an office setting for a long time and because I wasn't familiar with the environment that I would be working in.

So, I arrive a good 10 minutes early and was shown to an empty desk where the proofreader sits. My contact was in a meeting so from 9 to 9:30 I just read over my novel and started to make some changes. At 9:30 someone dropped off a project and hour later I was done. Someone dropped off one more and by 11:30 I had completed all the work they had for me. The minimum amount of hours I had to work was four. So I was guaranteed a half-a-day's worth of work and was to leave at 1 unless they really needed me. What I forgot was how much downtime there is in an office. I didn't have computer access and was grateful that I brought the novel along but I also felt guilty because essentially I was sitting there getting paid to edit my novel. I guess things could be worse.

I left at one, met my husband for lunch and was home in time to hang with the Lady. Getting out of the house was good and it was nice to concentrate on something else besides nap schedules and wrestling small objects out of the Lady's grasp. I am hoping more opportunities come my way not only for the extra income but to help me step out of my comfort zone a bit as well.

Mommy Mind Melt Moment

So the other day the Lady and I went out for our playdate. We left the house at 10:50 a.m. and did not arrive back home until 6:00 p.m., when much to my surprise I found the door about five inches ajar.

Apparently, in the rush to get out of the door with the diaper bag, my gym bag (that also included books 2-4 of the Twilight series for my sister-in-law), and the Lady's lunch bag; not to mention the Lady herself in her puffy and slippery jacket, all the while chatting on the phone, I forgot to pull the door tight behind me.

I called my husband who was leaving work at that time and told him I wasn't going in alone. The Lady and I walked back out to the garage, where she promptly took a header on the driveway and scraped up her face.

Luckily, there was no one hiding in the closets and our TV was still there.

The Biggest Loser and Other Updates

WTF? WTF? WTF?

What was Amy C. thinking? Does she really believe that those smug, selfish blue team members are really going to save her if she ever falls below the yellow line? Why Amy C? Why? You had the opportunity to eliminate one of the biggest game players ever, a person who, for the entire week, called you a backstabbing bitch and who hung a REVENGE poster on her door--naming you specifically. A revenge poster! UGH!!!!

Amy--you did something for yourself last week and you had the opportunity to do it again this week. A decision that would help you in the end and would benefit me and the rest of the BL watching community who cannot stand another minute of Vicky or one word that comes out of her mouth. I am pretty sure she said she hated her kids again this week. I might not have gotten that totally verbatim but it was pretty much along those lines.

By voting for Vicky, Amy could have guaranteed herself a few more weeks as long as she didn't fall below the yellow line and she could have guaranteed me a little less anxiety as the numbers start to dwindle and it looks like a Vicky in the final three might happen. Mean people should not win money.

The best part about the whole Vicky/Amy drama is that Vicky said that it was a personal attack against her when Amy voted off Brady. I find that pretty interesting considering that they tried to say that when they voted Amy P. off it had nothing to do with Phil. Hypocrites!

Okay, I am calming down. Let's talk a little about the 80's outfits. Look, I don't like Heba one bit but they showed an overhead shot of her in a leotard and fish net stockings lifting her legs. How embarrassing. There is no way that a crotch shot like that could have gone unnoticed. Dear Lord--please, please, please do not make these people wear anything more revealing until the end of the show where they have actually lost a ton of weight. I kept on waiting for Ed's junk to fly out of his little black shorts. I also couldn't take one word Bob said seriously while he was wearing his "Frankie Says Relax" t-shirt.

Oh, and the breakdancing. When the black team all stood in line and did the wave, I just kept thinking worm, worm, worm, please somebody do the worm. Alas, I was denied that great pleasure but am still trying to erase the images burned into my retinas. I hope those women had some time for a shave or a wax before they had to put on those leotards.

Run. Run. Run.

In a week from tomorrow it is Turkey Trot time. I am feeling better running overall. I still am hovering around the 30 minute mark and I am hoping to push that a little bit this week just to see how I feel. I am excited and nervous at the same time. I will probably not sleep well the night before and I will be praying that there is no rain.

NaNoWriMo

The novel is a little stalled. We are still hovering around the 10,000 word mark and I am hoping to get a few hours in this weekend to lift that and then make a huge push at the end. Time has become my enemy in a lot of things this week. I just don't want to get up early and do anything. I do want to finish this though and it will be a big step in the right direction.

The Scent of God

The Scent of God is permeating my house and my child.

The Scent of God? You ask. Yes, I say.

The Lady got baptized on Sunday. I am aware that she is almost 14 months old and perhaps it would have been a little easier had she been a tiny infant sleeping in my arms, however, that isn't how it happened and she was a very curious toddler in a very pretty dress pointing out the hanging Jesus over the alter and meowing at the statue of Jesus with a lamb by the baptismal fount.

It turned out to be a very nice day and my brother and sister-in-law hosted a lovely little after party at their place, where the Lady had free reign and at one point ran around in nothing but her tights.

The problem is though, she still smells like the Scent of God. The overly fragrant mix of olive oil and perfume that was poured over her head. I will admit I have an overactive sense of smell, I can tell if my husband is wearing a different brand of deodorant and although I appreciate the scents on other people perfume makes me really allergic. More allergic then red wine. I can't stand walking through the entrance to department stores and have been known to hold my breath in a desperate attempt to dodge the overzealous spritzers.

So not only did I have an oily headed toddler running around on Sunday reeking of what I can only describe as "college" and my 19 year old brother as "a head shop," but the scent has lingered on. Obviously she has been bathed, and the diluted woodsy smell emanating off the top of her is quite tolerable now and smells nice. However, every time I enter her room I am hit with the Scent again. It is on her blankets, Jerry and Moonie and her car seat. With the cold weather hitting us hard this week, every time the heat goes on in the house or the car, I am surrounded.

Maybe this is God's way of telling me that he is indeed everywhere or maybe it is time for me to wash the sheets.

I Am. . .

Beyonce has a new album out. I love the "If I Were a Boy" song and am endlessly searching for it on the radio when we are in the car. The name of her album is I Am. . . Sasha Fierce. She has created an alternate personality by the name of Sasha Fierce who is the performer, the sexy side of her, the one who takes the risks and wears leotards in her music videos. I am not sure if she is the same person who wears white bathing suits with gold jewelry in the South of France or if that is Beyonce herself, but regardless she is a force to be reckoned with.

I am thinking of adopting a new moniker of my own. Forget Bean, I want something powerful, something kick ass, an alter ego that is assertive, outgoing and not afraid to talk to other moms. I was thinking something like Rouge Firecrotch.

Apparently men love the color red, and find women more attractive when they are wearing it. Step one would be to fill my closet with all things red and go from there. Now, Firecrotch might be misleading. I am for one thing, not a red head, not Lindsay Lohan and not suffering from a scorching case of herpes. I chose it because it represents female power and when it burns down there you know there is trouble coming. I also think that this could very easily translate into a superpower name, next years Halloween costume or my new porn name. Either way it is representation of the other me, the strong, powerful, risk taker lurking beneath acne prone skin and a belly pooch. I think I am going to start referring to myself in the third person as Rouge Firecrotch a la Suede from this seasons Project Runway.

I would love to hear some of your own alter ego names. Seriously, it won't kill you to make something up and post it in the comments section. . .

Baby Steps

The Lady and I have plans for a pretty busy week. Yesterday we had a play date with a friend of mine from High School, who I reconnected with via. . . you guessed it. . . Facebook. Ahh the power of that website never ceases to amaze me. We had a really good time and the Lady got along well with her new friend, who was super cute and tried to sit on the Lady's lap, which was very funny.

I had high hopes going into today. I RSVP'd to a Mom's Group Evite for playtime at Kids U. I wasn't really sure how it worked, but I knew for $5 the Lady would be able to play for up to two hours and I was hoping to meet some of the women in the group. I was at least hoping to meet the main mom organizer and introduce myself. High hopes indeed. We got there took off our shoes and the Lady was off. We smiled meekly at some other moms, we said excuse me when we got in the way, we had a brief exchange with one mom but that was all. No introductions, no real small talk and not even one "How old is she?" I saw two other moms introduce themselves and chat for almost the whole time, while the Lady and I dodged their kids and literally stepped into the middle of their conversation. Oh well. Next time I am going to take a little risk and try to talk to one mom. We will see how it goes. I am also going to try to go to the 0-2 play date next week, which is at someones house. I figure they have to talk to me there, right?

I am thinking of practicing "approachable" looks in the mirror. Maybe I come off aloof or uninterested, maybe my smile is insincere, maybe the pimple on my face is too grotesque to look at, or maybe they are put off by the cuteness factor of the Lady and are so stunned by such an adorable face they are scared to talk to us. Or maybe they are put off by the fact that the Lady is covered in cuts on her face after a manicure mishap and a header into the driveway. So what if her nose and upper lip are a bit chaffed the girl just wants to play and I just want to talk to one other adult during the day.

Tomorrow is story time at Barnes and Noble. We will soldier on.

The Constitution State

I have been a resident of Connecticut for almost five years. I still have a hard time telling people that. It isn't that I don't like the community in which I live or that I don't see myself settling permanently here in the future, it is just that it is well. . . Connecticut. It seems to be just a halfway point between New York and Boston, a collection of towns with hedge fund money and closets full of pastels and popped collars.

When travelling my husband still tells people he is from New York. When I tell people I am from Connecticut the word sounds foreign coming from my lips (it is actually based on Mohegan and Algonquin Indian words for a "place beside a long river"). Granted we live in essentially a suburb of New York City and the fact that we are a quick train ride away and the actual New York border is like 7 miles from here, does a lot to ease my mind.

This week though, I am proud to be from Connecticut because here we welcome everyone. It is now legal for Gays and Lesbians to marry in the Constitution State. We join our neighbors in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts in recognizing same sex marriage as legal. I say if you want to get married--get married. I mean marriage isn't always easy and why should anybody be denied the opportunity to argue over cleaning the bathroom and what is for dinner while at the same time having access to health benefits and the knowledge that their relationship is seen as equal to heterosexual couples in the eyes of the law?

So, even though I still miss my New York State License I am glad to be living in a State that allows people to live and love how and who they want.

A few little known CT facts:

Connecticut never ratified the 18th Amendment (Prohibition). However you cannot buy beers here after 9 p.m. and you can't buy them on Sunday. This is kind of hard sometimes considering I spent my teen years buying beers at gas stations.

The Scoville Memorial Library is the United States oldest public library. Yeah--we like reading.

Connecticut is home to the first hamburger (1895), Polaroid camera (1934), helicopter (1939), and color television (1948). What would we do without color TV?

PEZ® Candy is made in the city of Orange. Who doesn't love the chalky taste of PEZ in their mouth?

The Wiffle Ball factory is in Shelton, CT. I think everyone owes a bit of thanks for this particular invention. Childhood would not be the same without the wiffle ball.

There is a town in CT called Mianus. Yes, Mianus, and a car dealership called Karl's that has a sign on 95 that says "Hummer by Karl."

I am learning to love this State a little bit more everyday.

I Promised

I know I promised that I would write more then just the BL update and info about my running but the pickings are slim today.

I don't have much except to tell you that I bought crayons for the Lady because she shows entirely too much interest in the writing utensils I use and instead of coloring on the paper I set out for her she tried to eat the crayon and then threw it in the trash.

I am trying to give her things to do so that she can play on her own, however, the only thing that seems to distract her these days is the 1-800-Empire commercials.

800-588-2300 Empiiiire

Try to get that out of your head people. It is an insidious jingle designed to penetrate every nook and cranny of your brain and joins the list of other commercials that have been circulating in my head for months now with no end in sight.

They include:

IO Digital Cable (For all of you Tri-State area people with Cablevision you know what I am talking about) and the "Saved By Zeros" commercial that has run at every single commercial break in every single sporting event that I have watched this year. These are right up there with the Egg song from Sesame Street, Frogs do it. . .

Yeah, like I said, slim pickings today!

The Biggest Loser and Other Updates

I almost turned the TV off last night. I almost walked away from a program that I have devoted countless hours to, that I have written about, talked about and have credited to helping kick start my own fitness journey.

I couldn't bear it. I could not bear the blue team. I could not bear the obvious and malicious nature of the Queen Bitch Vicky. I couldn't stand to watch Heba run and jump into the arms of her husband, who (and I apologize to any Southern readers) looks and sounds like he has a kissing cousin somewhere in the back hills of Appalachia.

I don't understand how when Vicky says something pointed and mean that it is okay, but when Phil came down to ask for an apology, Heba screams that he is playing the victim. Look, I am done with Phil. As far as I am concerned he dug his own grave in this game, plus he should have tried to kick ass in the challenge and instead he just gave up, but give me a break, these women are manipulative and overly aggressive. I wonder what demons they have been stuffing down their throats for so long.

Anyway, kudos to Stacey on the green team for trying so hard to get back on the show. But really she couldn't just do another 13 steps? Come on Stacey, you really could have made me happy last night. And what was with all the tears at the beginning? You were on the ranch for a week. Why so weepy now?

So when Ed won, it really got my Irish up. I was angry. I had a physical reaction to it, like I was personally affected by this outcome, like if I saw Vicky on the street I might punch her in the baby maker.

I wasn't sure I could continue as a faithful watcher when I didn't want any of the blue team to succeed, then came the weigh in.

Amy C. I would like to give you a ten second frencher for not only growing a set and raging against the blue machine, but for playing this game for yourself. Will you be eliminated next week if you fall below the line? Possibly. But you broke up part of the "five blue strong" and restored hope to an entire audience including one woman who spends entirely too much time thinking about you and your television program.

I will close this BL recap by saying that Brady looks good and he looks like an attentive father. It is hard to feel happy for him when I am filled with a venomous hatred for his wife, but he seems to be reaching his weight loss goals and if he can pass that on to his children then that is a good thing. I also have to say that his wife might be effing crazy. Mental illness is not something to joke about, but that bitch is nuts. Until next week my BL loving friends. . .

RUN. RUN. RUN.

I am getting there. I am a little behind in terms of meeting my distance goals. I wanted to be running a consistent 3 miles everyday this week, but am hitting a wall around 2.5. That is only half of the Turkey Trot and although part of me hopes that adrenaline and the desire to avoid embarrassment will help me push through the five miles, I realize that without consistently running at least 3-3.5 miles I will have a very long morning. I have to remember that half of this is a mental game and that if I just stopped paying so much attention to the time/distance issue I might actually be able to enjoy the run. By the way, I wouldn't recommend running outside past your local recycling center and waste treatment center. Yes, it is the path to the nice area of town but it doesn't smell good at all.

National Novel Writing Month

I am up to 6909. I have been there since Friday. I haven't written one word since. My plan to get some time in last night backfired because the hubby didn't make it home until 7:30 and God forbid I miss the BL. Nap time today is writing time. My goal is to get to 10,000 by the end of today.

Don't Miss Top Chef

Top Chef is on tonight on Bravo. Check it out.

I know, I know. . .

I have been a terrible blogger this week and I apologize. I am very quickly losing all motivation to do anything. Maybe it was the time change and the fact that once it hits four o'clock in the afternoon all I want to do is crawl into my bed and take a nice long nap, interrupted only by Oprah and some TLC.

I have also been kind of slacking in the good mothering category. As I type this the Lady is sleeping in her crib. It is 5:30 in the afternoon. Needless to say we didn't get our usual nap in today and that was my fault. I did have a photo session this morning and then in the afternoon took advantage of the holiday and got to the gym. I know I should wake her up or she will be awake until 10 o'clock tonight but I still haven't decided on dinner and I feel I owe my readers something this week!

Okay, okay, I will get her up in five minutes. Then I will throw some soup in a bowl, defrost some bread wait for my husband to get home, have him deal with dinner and the reinvigorated Lady and I will go take a shower and try to get my word count up on the novel.

For all those Veterans out there, thank you. I hope everyone else is having a good day and I promise I will write something vaguely interesting tomorrow that isn't just about the BL and my very sorry and pathetic attempt to run 5 miles.

Toodles.

Victoria Tell Me Your Secret

I went bra shopping the other day. The Lady and I wheeled our way into Victoria's Secret and looked around. I haven't bought a new bra since before the Lady was born, when my already ample bosom started to blossom a bit more and I purchased three bras from Macy's.


I wore those three bras, and then an additional two nursing bras pretty regularly for months. I am always reading that most women are wearing the wrong size bra. I am also reading that the shelf-life for these contraptions are only about 3-4 months. 3-4 months? I have bras in my drawer from like 5 years ago, granted they are of the lacy, frilly nature that I probably don't really fit in, are kind of scratchy, and are designed more for their visual punch then actual comfort, and I rarely wear them.

I decided to be measured and, once and for all, find a bra that lifts, separates, smooths, and minimizes all types of back fat and overspill. The very nice saleslady informed me that this was her third day working at VS and her first time measuring anyone. Great. I slid out of my fleece and stood open armed in my little grey tank top, grateful that I had actually showered and shaved that morning, as the woman measured away. I have what could be described as a broad back. I probably could have been a really good swimmer or a starter on the Giants offensive line. I guess we all have our cross to bear.

I had two bras in my hand, same bra, different size. One of them fit the measurement that the woman gave me, one of them fit the measurement of the bra I was wearing. I am not sure if the girl saw that I had two bras or not, but she handed me a padded bra to try on. Why would you hand a D-cup a padded bra? I am looking for support, not Dolly Parton like exposure. Plus it was super frilly and lacy and totally inappropriate for anything but a quick strip tease or an anniversary.

So I am in the big dressing room with the Lady in her jog stroller. We have maneuvered our way into a tight corner and once again I find myself in a dressing room that is like 500 degrees. I know this is gross, but I literally had to wipe my boob sweat with my tank top and let the girls hang loose a bit before I dare tried anything on.

First I tried the lacy, padded bra. Um. . . not so much.

Then I tried on the bra in the size the woman told me I was. Also, not quite right.

Finally I tried on the same bra in the size I came in wearing and . . . I am not sure how to describe the bio-fit by Victoria Secret. The closest I can come to verbalizing it is by saying that it felt like a hug from Jesus. It felt like Jesus enveloped me with comfort and understanding. A welcoming embrace that spoke "Girls, let me carry your burden a bit."

Oh ladies welcome home.

The Biggest Loser and Other Updates

So, obviously the Biggest Loser wasn't on due to election coverage. Although it does seem like the Republicans could probably take the title of Biggest Loser this week.

Whatever your political leanings, it was a historic election and hopefully we will be moving forward come January.

Now, bring back the BL for next week. I need my fix.

Other Updates

I slacked a bit last week with the running, but got outside yesterday and did pretty well. I am not sure how I am going to handle the hills but I will work towards that this week. I am still seeking appropriate workout gear. It is embarrassing to try and hitch up your pants every 25 yards.

The novel has on 3001 words so far. I am hoping to get a bit more time today to get the word count higher. It is a little freeing to know that I don't have to toil over each word and sentence. Some of it is totally working, some of the stuff is cringe worthy. Edit. Edit. Edit. That is what it is all about.

I Rocked the Vote

The Lady and I just got back from the polls. It is beautiful out. We made a quick Dunkies run (I know, but I haven't been there in like a week and a half and there was the possibility that I would have to buy the Lady's silence with a glazed munchkin) and then walked to the school behind our house to vote.

There was a line. There was also a woman loudly complaining about the line. I am not a fan of people who try to draw attention to themselves in public places, unless they are saying something hilarious. I also don't like when people lead you in conversations so that you have to respond by asking them a follow up question. Case in point:

How are you? (Everyone knows you just answer this by saying OK or fine or good, you don't actually answer it)

Good, but I am not sure about my daughter/father/dog/fish, etc. . .

Ugh. Polite follow-up question.

Sorry, that was a little tangent but just wanted to point out one of my pet peeves.

Anyway, we were anticipating a wait today, so I tried to go a little later in the morning to avoid the rush of people who actually work. The process from start to finish only took 21 minutes. I did have to appease the Lady with half a munchkin and the Wet Ones container but I felt good about getting out and voting. I feel good about getting out of the house period, but to have a goal always makes it more satisfying.

I encourage you all to get out and vote, regardless of your candidate of choice. Also, grab a "I Voted" sticker and head to either Krispy Kreme or Starbucks (for those of you on the dark side), they are handing out freebies for those who voted.

Panda Man

Panda Man.

Many thanks to Steadman's Army for giving us a photo of his very cute little guy.

Where is the Remote?

I didn't want to accept it but I think the Lady might have thrown away our remote control. Granted, it is the TV remote that only controls the volume and not the actual channel changing. The power button had also been rendered useless by her chewing on the end of it too many times, but it still worked.

Initially, I wanted to blame my husband. The Lady and I were gone all last weekend and for most of the day on Monday so we really didn't have any access to the remote control. He was certainly the last one to use it, but after pulling out the couches, checking all the drawers and nooks and cranny's in the Lady's sight line and witnessing her throw a spoon and a cell phone into the trash yesterday, I am thinking that our alternate explanation of Gremlins in the house probably isn't valid.

I am hoping it will turn up one day so that I don't have to walk the two feet from the couch to the TV to adjust the volume, but I am not holding my breath.

Halloween III

Brother John and Sister Mary Margaret

Juno gets her drink on

Juno's baby daddy, Sister Mary Margaret and the Joker

Okay, so I know there might be a few too many pics up, but these are from the adult party. Did I mention that I am too old to stay up until 3 am?

We had a really good time and it was nice to get out and socialize. Was it sad that all my adult conversations took place with me wearing a monks wig? Yes, but at least I wasn't wearing a Super Mario mustache. Hope everyone had a good weekend.